Indian Cavalryman

_ INDIAN ~
CAVALRYMAN

G uest 43 B

CAPTAIN FREDDIE GUEST

Indian Cavalryman

‘

JARROLDS

JARROLDS PUBLISHERS (London) LTD
178-202 Great Portland Street, London, W.1

AN IMPRINT OF THE fo HUTCHINSON GROUP

London Melbourne Sydney
Auckland Bombay Toronto
Johannesburg New York

*
First published 1959

This book has been set in Baskerville type

face. It has been printed in Great Britain on

Antique Wove paper by Taylor Garnett

Evans & Co. Ltd., Watford, Herts, and
bound by them

To

MY GRANDSON

RICHARD CHARLES SCOTT

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to express my grateful thanks to the
following people who have helped me with this
book: Mr. Lionel Edwards and ‘Snaffles’,
those well-known artists, for letting me repro-
duce their pictures; my friend Tom Barnard
for his two pictures which he drew specially for
me; Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Kilkelly (the
last effective British officer to command “The
Poona Horse’) for his interest and valuable
suggestions; to Phillip Smith for his assistance
in relation to China; Enid Hands and Jenepher
Green for their many hours and patience with
the typescript! my good friend and advisor
Cherry Kearton whose encouragement and
professional experience has been invaluable.

Contents

Preface

Voyage to India

Cadet School

Buck, Bees and Monkeys
The North-West Frontier
Frontier Warfare

The Tribesmen’s Revenge
Silladar System

Stampede

Meeting Mahatma Ghandi
Pigsticking and Polo
Indian Cavalry in Peacetime
Secunderabad

Another voyage to the East
The Siege of Hong Kong
Escape

Americans come to India

Bangalore and Farewell to India

Illustrations

BETWEEN PAGES 96 & 97

page 9

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210

Preface

by the India and Colonial Offices between the wars

were many, such as Indian Civil, Forestry, Police, East
and West African Political, etc.; but, to the man who liked
soldiering, the Indian Cavalry stood in a class by itself.

Seldom has there been offered to a young man of British
birth a more adventurous, exciting and colourful life than that
of an officer of the Indian Cavalry.

The question quickly arises—why single out the cavalry
from the infantry or other services of the Indian Army? The
answer is that, owing to the different roles and functions of
the cavalry, they were more fortunate in being stationed in the
large cantonments during peacetime.

The Indian Infantry, on the other hand, often found them-
selves in some really unpleasant spots and would remain there
for years. Also, because of the trying heat of India in hot
weather, it was surely better to be horsed than on foot. In those
days, when there was no mechanised transport, long marches
had to be carried out which taxed the endurance of the toughest.
To the cavalry went the pleasant jobs, such as those of A.D.C.
to the viceroys, governors, generals and of escort for the many
ceremonials for which India, in those days, was renowned.

The romantic names of the different regiments together
with the colourful variation of uniforms were accepted features
of the Indian Cavalry. It is difficult for those of us who were
once privileged to serve in this exotic army to realize that it has
already passed into history.

I feel that, for the benefit of those countries which tend to
belittle the munificence of the British Empire, now the

9

[os list of interesting and complicated careers offered

10 PREFACE

Commonwealth, it should be made clear that the British
officers undoubtedly gave more to India than they took from
her. In the latter part of the nineteenth century and the begin-
ning of the twentieth it was virtually impossible for a young
cavalry officer to serve in a regiment unless he had independent
means. This meant that he actually paid out of his own resources
for the distinction of serving the government of India. Admittedly
we had a grand life, but this again was by our own making
and efforts. The Indian Cavalry Regimental Officers’ Messes
of today still possess the silver (including all the sporting
trophies), furniture, plate and appointments which were
ungrudgingly handed over to them but which were bought
and won by the British officers of the past.

That they appreciate what we have done for them there is
no question, as can be seen by the way they revere and carry
on the old customs and traditions of those regiments which are
still in existence and also by the way they endeavour to keep
in touch with the various regimental associations still carrying
on in England. We wish them every good fortune and may they
enjoy life to the full as we certainly did.

The Indian Cavalry reached its zenith during the First
World War with over forty regiments, if one includes the
Body Guards, although these were reduced considerably after
the war when the amalgamations took place.

It is interesting to recall some of the grand but strange-
sounding names of those days, many of which have now ceased
to exist.

The Governor General’s Body Guard, 3rd Skinner’s Horse,
7th Hariana Lancers, gth Hodson’s Horse, 11th Probyn’s
Horse, 15th Cureton’s Mooltanis, 22nd Sam Browne’s Cavalry,
29th Deccan Horse, 34th Poona Horse, 37th Balach Horse,
38th Central India Horse.

The Body Guard was by far the oldest, having been raised
in 1774. The Indian Cavalry as a force began to take shape just
after the Battle of Waterloo, in 1817, when several regiments
were raised. It therefore existed as a British force for just one
hundred and thirty years.

Voyage to India

E were so seasick that five men literally went mad.

When the ship reached Valetta’s famous harbour on

the island of Malta, we leaned on the ship’s rails and
watched the poor devils being swung over the side in stretchers
to the waiting ambulances on the quayside below.

The S.S. Ceramic had left Southampton in the dead of night
only seven days previously. She had been hurriedly converted
into a troopship and with five thousand officers and men on
board had steamed out into the English Channel on her way
to India via the Suez Canal.

From the very beginning of that voyage things had gone
badly. The seas were rough and when we entered the Bay of
Biscay a storm was at its height. Within forty-eight hours the
ship had become a floating cuspidor. Most of the officers and
men and half the crew were ill with seasickness.

What intensified the trouble was that, although the ship
was twenty-five thousand tons, she was so crammed full of
troops that it was almost impossible to move around to try to
get away from those who had been so quickly stricken with that
dreadful malady.

I was one of a small company of officer cadets in the troop-
ship who were on their way to India to be trained as British
officers for the Indian Army as distinct from the British Army.

Our company was attached to one of the British regiments
on board for all purposes, such as discipline, guard duties, pay
and so on. We were dressed as privates except that we wore the

II

I2 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

distinctive white tape under our shoulder straps which marked
us as officer cadets.

‘Lights out’ had sounded on the bugles almost as soon as
the ship steamed from the docks at Southampton into the open
Channel. However, no one appeared to want to sleep and there
was a great deal of pent-up excitement in the air. In the next
bunk to me was a school friend of mine who, like myself, was
one of the Indian Army cadets.

‘Well, Tom,’ I whispered to him, ‘we’re leaving England
at last. How do you feel? Homesick?’ I queried. I knew that
he was the only boy in his family but had three pretty sisters
besides a devoted father and mother and was the centre of
interest. I felt sure he would miss them.

‘No,’ he answered, ‘not unduly, but I am sure that if this
confounded ship is going to continue to behave like this I shall
be not homesick but damned seasick. How about you, Freddie ?’

I, on the other hand, had come straight from boarding
school and the army life did not seem all that different except
that I had a feeling of suddenly becoming a man overnight. I
had grown up completely detached and had learnt to rely on
myself, and I thought my independence was now standing me
in good stead.

‘I’m feeling grand, Tom,’ I answered slowly. “This is just
the kind of life I had hoped for, but I had not expected things
to happen quite so soon. I consider myself lucky to be able to
get started on our chosen career so quickly. You know,’ I
added, ‘I just managed to wangle my age and got here only by
the skin of my teeth.’

“Yes, Freddie,’ he whispered back. ‘Mind you keep quiet
about it or they will be sending you back to school for being
under age.’

“Too late now,’ I chuckled.

The buzz of talking gradually got louder and louder until
the voice of the sergeant suddenly boomed out. ‘Stop that
talking everybody! Didn’t you hear the bugle? The next man
who talks will be put on a charge. I could do with some names
for fatigues. There'll be plenty of horrible jobs tomorrow by the
sounds of some of you.’

VOYAGE TO INDIA 13

With that ghastly threat the deck became silent and
presently most of us fell asleep. But not for long. The ship was
tossing badly and the disgusting sounds of seasickness began to
be heard on all sides. As the unfortunate devils tried to scramble
to the upper decks they stumbled over the feet of the crowded
men sleeping on the floors and ended up by being sick over
them. The cursing and swearing became intense and the
situation was already beginning to be serious. The unfortunate
N.C.O.s who should have been maintaining some kind of
order were themselves too sick to do so.

It did not need bugles to sound reveille as the night had
been just too ghastly for most people and everyone was in a
hurry to get up on deck to try and get some fresh air. One of
the major troubles was that where we slept we ate and the
bunks had to be rolled up and the mess decks cleaned before
anyone was allowed to go. Most people complained they were
too ill to work and the sickness was already beginning to get
out of hand.

The ship was crowded to capacity and it now became
obvious that to pack five thousand troops on board was only
possible providing things went according to plan. It quickly
dawned on us that the voyage was going to be a horrible night-
mare if this confounded seasickness continued.

Breakfast was no sooner over than the bugles sounded for
boat stations. This was the drill which was to be observed in
all cases of alarm. Although we realized it was necessary, it did
not take us long to find out what a bore it was to become. It
took place at all times, both day and night, and it was not
surprising that with continual practice we became proficient.
From the moment the bugles sounded for boat stations until
the time everyone was at his post only four minutes elapsed;
and this, considering the size of the ship and the number of
men involved, was a really creditable performance.

When we paraded on the upper boat decks that first
morning and glanced out to sea it was with a sense of relief that
we were able to sight our escort for the first time. This consisted
of two destroyers, one on each flank. They not only gave us a
feeling of security, as they carried out their duties by making

14 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

wide detours and returning to their respective patrol positions,
but they were also something to look at and talk about during
the day. They did not stay with us very long, however, for as
we rounded the north coast of France and Ushant Island to
enter the Bay of Biscay, they gave us a farewell tootle on their
sirens, which was answered by three lusty cheers from five
thousand throats. They came in near enough for them to hear
us and then quickly faded away out of sight, much to our regret.

Our entry into the Bay of Biscay was the real beginning of
our troubles. The south-west winds hit us full blast and it was
rough enough to upset the stomachs of most people. The decks
quickly became a mass of seasick soldiers and in an incredibly
short space of time the stench was so unbearable that even the
strongest were affected. It soon developed into a major problem
and the congested decks added to the general deterioration of
the situation.

By the time we reached Cape Finistere, off the north coast
of Spain, where the Atlantic rollers made their presence felt,
the troopship was in such a state of seasickness that it was
almost out of hand.

The captain of the ship and the O.C. troops decided to call
a parade of the officers, who were, of course, just as bad as the
men, and reprimanded them severely for allowing the sickness
to get out of control. They were ordered to pull themselves
together, get the men on parade as much as possible, and so
try to help them get over their frightful malady.

Gradually the officers began to bring the men under control
and things improved, but of the many voyages I made during
my life I never remember seeing seasickness getting such a hold
on a ship. The situation was saved when we reached Cape St.
Vincent and turned eastward through the Straits of Gibraltar
to the Mediterranean Sea. I often wondered just what would
have happened if our voyage had continued on down the
African coast. I had managed to keep fairly free of the sickness
but had succumbed once or twice owing to being so surrounded
by it.

Early one morning, just before the bugles sounded Reveille,
a cry went up that Gibraltar was in sight. We were up on deck

VOYAGE TO INDIA 15

in a flash and my first sight of that mighty rock was indeed
inspiring. Although I have seen it many times since, that first
vision has always remained a vivid memory. There was a slight
mist as we approached but suddenly it lifted and there, in its
majestic setting, was the Rock in all its glory.

The early morning sub-tropical sun was just rising, catching
it a glancing blow on its purple face. The blue of the sea
shivered beneath us and touched off a truly magnificent
picture as we came sailing in from the west.

In the next few hours an amazing change came over the
whole ship; the sun of the Mediterranean blazed down on us
and suddenly everyone was up and about—the sickness
departed as quickly as it came. The ship was cleaned and in a
spick-and-span condition once more. Orders were given for
everybody to change into tropical kit while boat stations was no
longer a bore as everyone was anxious to get up on to the boat
deck and remain out in the sun for as long as possible. Life
on board had quickly become more tolerable in spite of the
overcrowding; games were organized, including the ever-
lasting Tombola or Housie Housie which the troops preferred
to call it. I have often wondered how troopships would get on
without this popular game. Although I have never been very
interested in it there is no doubt that for keeping soldiers quiet
and occupied for hours on end it has no equal. One can almost
say it was the forerunner of the football pools; indeed the two
are really very similar in their different ways.

‘Hallo, Tom,’ I said, as I saw my friend coming along the
deck, ‘where have you been ?’

‘Oh, just the odd spot of fatigue,’ he answered. ‘I have been
down into the Frig stores helping to get the frozen meat out.
Very interesting and a good opportunity to have a cool
off. It is so hot up here. But,’ he said, ‘have you heard the
news ?”

With that remark we both laughed. It was always a joke
when people started to talk about news on the ship. It was
usually associated with rumour and there was more than
enough of that. One day it would be that we were going to land
in France, another that we were off course as we had been

16 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

chased all night by German submarines and yet another that
the ship was turning back to go around the Cape.

‘No, Tom,’ I played up to him, ‘I have not heard the latest.
What is it?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I hear we are calling in at Malta tomorrow
and unloading the special sick cases.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘that sounds to me to be very feasible, but
have we men as bad as that?’

‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘I’ve heard that there are five lunatics
to be landed.’

‘Lunatics!’ I exclaimed.

‘Yes, it appears that when the ship was going through the
Bay some men were so seasick that they just went off their
heads and have not yet recovered.’ He continued, ‘I am certain
it is true as the ship’s doctor was down at the meat store and I
heard him talking to one of the ship’s officers about it.’

And, sure enough, it was true. The next morning we steamed
into Valetta harbour and while we took on coal we watched
the stretcher cases being swung over the side and hurried away
in the ambulances. There were, of course, other cases as well,
as a ship with five thousand men on board was bound to have a
certain percentage of illness.

Those five cases of lunacy through seasickness have always
stuck in my mind as being the most unfortunate way for a
soldier to become a war casualty.

However, life went steadily on and the following night I
was doing my turn of guard duty when suddenly the boat
stations alarm sounded. It was about one o’clock in the
morning and as the troops came tumbling to their stations
great excitement prevailed as there was no doubt that something
out of the ordinary was happening. The ship was fairly throb-
bing with speed and it was obvious that a submarine had
been sighted. The Royal Navy had suddenly appeared from
nowhere and we could see and hear the flashes caused by the
dropping of depth charges from torpedo boats far away to our
stern. It was indeed an eerie feeling just standing there in the
dark of night waiting for things to happen but being unable to
do anything about it.

VOYAGE TO INDIA 17

Presently there was a bigger explosion than usual and the
cry went up that the navy had succeeded in sinking a German
submarine, and it turned out that this was so. It also appeared
later that this was the first enemy submarine to be sunk in the
Mediterranean.

Except for an occasional alarm nothing of any special note
happened in the next few days and at last we sighted the famous
statue of Ferdinand de Lesseps, which marked the entrance to
the Suez Canal. It is hard to realize that this monument to the
celebrated French Consul no longer exists owing to the childish
fury of an illiterate mob. It was destroyed by the very people
who should have revered his name, for Egyptians have a lot
for which to thank him. We ourselves have blessed his name
over the years, especially those of us who were destined to
spend so much of our lives in India.

Our sole means of transport to England in those days was
by ship. I wonder how many of us stopped to think and realize
that the Suez Canal saved us a distance of no less than four
thousand miles in the journey from India to England each
time we came home on leave. Considering the many times I
have made this journey over the years, the Canal must have
saved me alone many, many thousands of miles and months
and months of time—a very sobering thought.

We entered Port Said on that lovely morning and the great
change-over from the Western to the Eastern way of life
seemed to come upon us very suddenly. This quickly changing
scene has, over the years, always struck me very forcibly. I
have never been anything else but awed by this striking
phenomenon.

A great crowd of Egyptians, naval and military officials,
had assembled on the quayside as the ship slowly made her
way to the dock. Apparently the unusual interest was due to the
fact that S.S. Ceramic with her twenty-five thousand tons was
the largest ship up to that time to attempt to go through the
Canal. Certainly as we docked we seemed to tower above the
buildings, and that amazing emporium, Simon Marks, just
across the quayside, looked quite dwarfed beside us.

What drew our attention among the military personnel on

B

18 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

the quayside was the large number of Australian and New
Zealand soldiers (better known as the Anzacs). Evidently every-
one concerned knew of our arrival and it was obvious that we
were to be given priority so that no time would be wasted in
getting us through. In a very short time we were away again,
and began our passage down the Canal. It was soon notice-
able that the ship was going to be a tight fit, for as we slowly
entered the narrow portions of the Canal, the sides of the big
liner seemed to touch the actual banks. This caused the water
to flood the towpaths on either side, causing alarm to the
groups of workers on them.

As we proceeded on our way we saw the camps of the
Anzacs spaced at frequent intervals. It was not long before a
great deal of good-natured banter was going on between the
troops on the ship and the troops on the shores. Leg-pulling
and chaffing became the keynote, all taken in good spirit on
both sides. As we slowly passed the more lonely outposts
there were yells such as ‘What are you waiting for, Aussie?’
And the replies came back, ‘A bus,’ ‘My girl friend,’ or ‘The
pubs to open’. But, as we got farther and farther along the
Canal, the sentry posts became smaller and more solitary until
we seemed to reach the last man. As the big ship approached
him with the best part of five thousand men looking down on
him, he got in his yell first. In a powerful voice he called out,
‘Are we downhearted?’ With one accord the ship yelled back,
‘No! Quickly came the lone voice of the solitary sentry:
‘Then you bloody soon will be.’ The explosion of laughter
from the ship was the loudest I ever heard. That sentry was
rewarded by an amazing shower of cigarettes which he must
have remembered for the rest of his life.

We had passed the last outposts of the Anzacs and were
now entering the first of the lakes. The journey so far had been
extremely slow—I would imagine it was made at about half
the usual speed of ships making the trip regularly—the reason
being that we were, at that time, about seven thousand tons
larger than the biggest ships which used the Canal. To give one
some idea of the speed: there were several instances where
Anzac soldiers had walked with us and talked to us from the

VOYAGE TO INDIA 19

towpath for one or two miles. We entered the lake and it was
decided that we should anchor for a time to let the ships on
the up journey carry on as our slowness was putting the normal
schedule out of order. This stop gave us time to sit around and
watch the working of the Canal in all its aspects. There we
saw the big dredgers at their continual task of keeping the
channels clear. We saw the coming and going of the many
types of craft which used the Canal, and the strange sailing
boats with their bamboo masts and patched-up sails looking
almost as old and ancient as the very pyramids themselves.

To young cadets it was all very thrilling, and, although we
heard some of the old soldiers complain of the heat which was
blowing across from the desert, we were in no way distressed or
uncomfortable. We did, however, find the pith helmets a bit of
a nuisance as the orders were that they must be worn in the
open at all times, it being an offence to be caught not wearing
one. The heat was certainly beginning to be felt by all, but
just when it began to get really trying, we weighed anchor and
once again steamed into the narrows of the Canal.

It was not long before we reached the Bitter Lakes and with
this big expanse of water the air cooled considerably to the
relief of everyone. We were definitely feeling the effects of the
overcrowding but, as someone pointed out, we had not yet
reached the Red Sea.

We finally got to the end of the Canal and stopped to coal
at Port Suez. This was our last stop, for which everyone was
thankful, as the heat was beginning to tell. As we steamed into
the Red Sea the sun became really hot, but owing to the breeze
it did not strike one quite so badly as in the Canal.

The following day, however, the heat became quite
unbearable below decks with the result that everyone crowded
on to the promenade and upper decks, and the congestion
became almost intolerable. Men were now going down like
flies with heat stroke and once again the situation threatened
to get out of hand. How thankful we were when night came
with its coolness; but it was still trying to go below owing to the
heat and stench. The last day in the Red Sea was so unbear-
ably hot, as the two coasts of Africa and Arabia closed in and

20 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

what little wind there was dropped completely, that we were
thankful when we at last reached Aden.

Once again we were rewarded with the sight of the Rock
which was something to be remembered. It was in the evening
when we saw it, with the tropical sunlight giving it a rather
strange, sinister look I thought. The general impression was
that Aden did not look a very inviting place in which to be
stationed.

There were no further incidents of any note as we crossed
the Arabian Sea, except that as we once again reached the
more open sea with its rollers the ship experienced another
bout of seasickness, but not nearly so many were affected. To
the great relief of all we came at long last in sight of our final
destination, Bombay and India.

I was leaning over the rails on deck with my friend and
companion, Tom Thompson, as we slowly entered the harbour.

‘Well, Tom,’ I said quietly, ‘here we are at long last. How
do you feel about it?’

He did not answer for a moment; then he gripped my arm
firmly and said, ‘Freddie, I want to cry, but I’m not sure
whether it is with excitement or just plain homesickness.’

With that he let go of my arm and walked away. I did not
follow.

We had our first view of Bombay in the morning after
breakfast. To my mind it has the most eastern look of any of
the Indian or Far East harbours. As the ship approaches, one
is enchanted by the sight of the numerous palm trees which
show up for miles along the Bombay coast. Then, as the ship
nears the dock, the ‘Gateway of India’ suddenly rises up from
the quayside and is framed by the domes of the Taj Hotel and
the various tall buildings which have a particularly Oriental
appearance. Added to this is the vast Indian crowd which
meets and greets every ship which enters the port. There is an
air of bustle and excitement which surpasses any similar
experience elsewhere. However, when a troopship of this size
comes in, it is by no means certain that one is going to get off
it in a hurry, and so it was in our case.

We were not entraining until that night and so, after some

VOYAGE TO INDIA 21

considerable time, we were given leave for six hours in which
to have a look around Bombay. It was a wonderful feeling to
be able to put one’s feet on shore and walk about, after having
been cooped up on board a troopship for nearly a month.

We went off in small parties. In our party there were six
of us, including my bosom companion, Tom Thompson. We
set off for a walk along Marine Parade, but had not been going
long when a British civilian stopped and asked us if we would
like to see Bombay. We said we would and he just hired a two-
horse carriage and told us to jump in. He was an Englishman
who had spent many years in India, particularly in Bombay,
and was kind enough not only to show us around but also to
take us into the Taj Mahal Hotel and invite us to lunch at his
expense. Our first impression of India was certainly a good
one! We finally thanked our host and said good-bye to him and
made our way back to the ship.

It takes a lot of trains to move five thousand troops and it
took a long time to entrain them all. Our small party, which
was bound for Wellington in the Nilgiri Hills in southern
India, had to wait until ten o’clock that night before we
boarded the train for Bangalore, that delightful station on the
Deccan. From here we would get our train to Wellington where
our cadet school was situated.

Our troubles with overcrowding were not yet over as the
special troop train was filled to capacity. Two regiments were
bound for Bangalore, together with various oddments, such
as the Supply Corps and medicals for the large European
hospital there. However, we were entrained at last and we
drew out of Bombay Station with a certain amount of relief
and the welcome knowledge that we had finished with that
dreadful voyage. Admittedly, it had been interesting, but the
awful heat and discomfort of those last weeks had been just a
little too much, even for the toughest.

We soon realized, however, that our trials were not yet
over as railway travel in India was just as uncomfortable as a
troopship. We had five days on the train before us and with
six of us to one compartment it looked as if we were in for a
rough journey. There were only four bunks and with all our

22 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

kit and baggage it was horribly congested, to say the least of it.
We tossed up as to which two would sleep on the floor, but
after such a full day nobody worried and it did not take us
long to settle down. In a very short time we were all asleep.

In the morning our first halt was that most famous of all
Indian stations, Poona. There was a general chuckle all round
as the name was mentioned. How it has come to be under-
stood as the hallmark of snobbery of retired officers is difficult
to fathom but that it bears that tab there can be little doubt.

In my opinion it is owing to the strange phonetic sound
of the name itself, together with the fact that it is practically
impossible for any soldier to be in India for any length of time
without being stationed there at some time or other.

We did not stop for long and the journey took us through
the wonderful rugged scenery of the Western Ghats. We
climbed steadily for three thousand feet to reach the cool
plateau of the Deccan. The great point of interest we had been
told to look for was the Duke’s nose and, sure enough, we soon
spotted this strange phenomenon. There, standing high above
the surrounding rocks, is that huge unmistakable profile of the
Duke of Wellington’s face showing, so clearly, that wonderful
aquiline nose which is so distinctive to him. One’s first impres-
sion is that it has been carved by a gang of coolies working on
the rock under the direction of some sculptor, but, as the train
passes near and beneath it, this illusion soon vanishes. It does
seem so strange and mysterious, though entirely in keeping
with mystic India, that the one man who did so much to shape
the destiny of that country (with the possible exception of
Clive) should have an eternal natural monument there for all
to see. A sobering thought for those of us who have spent so
many years in India and understand what the Duke of
Wellington meant to that great country.

We continued on our way and as we gradually climbed
up on to the plateau, the change in the climate was very
noticeable. At last we reached Bangalore where we were able
to break our journey for a few hours before going on to the
Nilgiris.

What a fine station it was! The home for so many years of

VOYAGE TO INDIA 23

that famous corps, ‘The Sappers and Miners’, who were
indeed lucky to have such a place as their permanent head-
quarters and were the envy of all. The climate, without a doubt,
must rank as one of the finest in the whole world. I have been
to many countries during my life but I have yet to come across
a spot which could equal it for constant good weather. The sun
shines steadily, but not uncomfortably, for nine months of the
year. During the monsoons, which prevail during the other
three months, it is blessed with rain which seldom lasts for
more than an hour or two each day and which causes the
wonderful flowering trees to blossom forth in all their gorgeous
splendour.

2

Cadet School

had reached its terminus and the regiments had marched

off to those fine barracks, ‘Baird’ and ‘Cornwallis’. We
were now reduced to our original small party of cadets under
orders to continue our journey by ordinary passenger train to
Wellington, just over a hundred miles south of Bangalore and
situated in the heart of the Nilgiri Hills.

We left that evening and arrived the following afternoon.
We had reached our destination at long last and from the
moment of our arrival things changed with a suddenness which
was truly remarkable. Equal to the ordinary private soldier on
board the troopship, we now found ourselves to be no more
than the lowest specimen of humanity that existed on earth.
The almighty sergeant major and his terrifying staff had taken
us over, body and soul. From now on we had to get permission
for everything, and as one wag put it, ‘Do we have to ask per-
mission to breathe?’ It was as bad as that. They were trying
to make soldiers of us, and how they tried. The drill square
became the nearest thing to purgatory that exists on this earth.

At the end of the first week we had almost reached breaking
point, but were beginning to understand what it was all about.
In the second and third weeks we started voice command
training, that is that we tried to drill one another by words of
command shouted out from an incredible distance apart.
Along one side of the parade ground a line of men stood at
intervals of twenty paces facing a similar line on the other side
of the parade ground. Each man carried a rifle and the idea
was that a man should drill his opposite number across the

24

[i troop train by which we had travelled from Bombay

CADET SCHOOL 25

square by shouting, or rather bawling, out his words of com-
mand. The trouble arose when, because everybody screeched
out orders at the same time, the noise became so terrible that
nobody heard anything. The result was that one’s opposite
number did nothing at all but stand still.

After two days of this confounded exercise the cadet school
was the quietest place imaginable because nobody was able
to talk at all; everyone’s voice had completely gone.

From these horrible tasks we passed on to that most import-
ant form of infantry training of that time, route marching.
We were made to march incredible distances day after day
until the very sight of a pair of marching boots made us feel
positively ill! In between times, while all this was going on,
we studied military law, military history, map reading, mule
and animal transport, field engineering, weapon training of all
kinds, known in those days as ‘musketry’, man management,
hygiene, and, last but not least, personal appearance. At all
times we had to be scrupulously smart in washed and ironed
khaki drill uniforms with polished buttons and blancoed
equipment. We changed our clothes so many times a day that
it was nothing short of a miracle that we kept pace with it.
Through all this we had to keep our rifles spotlessly clean so
that they could be inspected without warning at any moment.
At the end of a day bed was the most welcome place and we
did not need to be sent there. Some of us younger ones could
not get there quick enough. How swiftly the days passed but
what wonderful soldiers we became.

The rivalry between the different companies, of which
there were six, was intense, both in work and sport. I was one
of the lucky ones in that all forms of sport came easily to me
and because of this fact, one’s failings in other subjects were
overlooked in many instances. To be in any of the representa-
tive teams was to be one of the favoured, and got one out of all
kinds of the more irksome duties. I consider that my success at
games enabled me to get through those subjects at which I was
not particularly successful, for which I was very thankful.

At last the pace began to slacken and we were beginning
to be treated more like human beings; life became enjoyable

26 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

and the time passed quicker than ever. The final exams were
upon us and for days we appeared before the various examining
boards of instructors. We were tested in all forms of outside
work followed by days of paper exams. It was interesting to
watch the names on the lists move up or down according to the
placings in the various subjects. The fluctuations were consider-
able as daily we eagerly scanned the different lists to see the
results. At last the final results appeared and everyone was
anxious to know his fate—had he passed or failed? There were
the inevitable shocks and surprises which are common to most
examinations. There were the usual surprises concerning those
cadets who had come out on top and those who had failed, and
concerning the subjects one had expected to do well in but had
done the reverse—and, of course, vice versa.

High marks for games and outside work had covered up
weaknesses in one or two of the papers, as in my case, but I
was well up the list and had nothing to worry about. Nor had
my friend, Thompson.

‘Well, Tom, that’s that,’ I said as we scanned the boards
together. ‘I am glad it’s over.’

“Yes, Freddie,’ he answered. ‘I think this calls for a beat-up
tonight, don’t you?’

I laughed. ‘We must be careful, Tom, and not get too drunk
or we could still be out on our ears.’

That evening the last guest night took place and great
were the celebrations. Everyone was in high spirits and if one
or two drank a little more than was necessary, nobody bothered.

The general concensus of opinion was that it had been a
good, hard course but that everybody was ‘bloody glad’ it was
over. All we had to wait for now were the postings, which were
expected to be on view the next day. These were without doubt
the most important climax to the whole course. The pattern of
our young lives was mapped on them. They would show the
regiment of the Indian Army to which each officer was posted
and also the British regiment in India to which he would be
attached for one year before joining his Indian regiment. It
was the custom for a young officer going into the Indian Army
to continue his training for one year with a British regiment

CADET SCHOOL 27

before taking up his final appointment. In that year he was
expected to gain experience in those important subjects,
discipline, man management and mess conduct. He would
also be a year older and not quite so young before joining the
Indian Army where the long-serving private soldier is more
predominant than in the British Army. In this British regiment
he would have the help and guidance of experienced N.C.O.s
in the performance of his numerous duties and so gain valuable
experience in the handling of men.

The following day was one of excitement. It was generally
expected that the postings would be displayed on the main
notice board around noon, and as we came out from the last
lecture of the morning there was a rush for the notice board.
Sure enough, there were the fateful lists which meant so much to
every one of us. To a stranger coming in from outside these lists
would appear to be nothing very special. All that was on them
was:

and Lieut. Smith—1st Gurkhas attached to The King’s
Regiment (Liverpool).

and Lieut. Brown—g3rd Skinners Horse attached to The
Devonshire Regiment.

and Lieut. Jones.—61st Pioneers attached to The Royal
Engineers.

end Lieut. Guest.—8th Cavalry attached to The Middlesex
Regiment (Duke of Cambridge’s
Own).

In the owners of the names, however, they aroused piquant
feelings, followed by a strange emotion which is hard to
describe. Here were the lists for which we had worked hard for
so many months and, in some cases, years. There on the lists
were the regiments with which our names were coupled and
which were to play such an important part in our lives in the
years to come. In this regiment one would be expected to serve
and spend many years of one’s military life. To the young man
who had chosen the regular army for his career this was indeed
one of the most important turning points in his life.

One knew that, because the regiment was of the Indian

28 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

Army, the number of British officers would be few, and
immediately the thought sprang to mind—what would they
be like? What would the colonel be like? Would he and the
officers be easy to get on with? Would one make a bad start
and get off on the wrong foot and perhaps find life difficult?
Would the Indian officers and men of the regiment accept the
newcomer as one of them? These thoughts, or similar ones, must
have rushed through the minds of most of us as we stood and
gazed at the lists.

For a few moments there was a peculiar silence which one
seldom associated with a group of ‘Gentlemen Cadets’ as they
were known. No doubt it was because of the above thoughts
and their innermost feelings, but, after a moment, there came a
miniature explosion as everybody started to talk at once. The
din was understandable.

Some expressed slight disappointment because they saw
they had not been posted to the regiment of their first choice.
There were, of course, a number of reasons for this. A cadet was
allowed to put down in order of preference three regiments,
and, according to vacancies in those regiments, he would be
posted accordingly.

Why cadets chose certain regiments was easy enough to
understand. In many instances it was a question of family
connexions. Possibly a father or an uncle, or a relative on either
the father’s or mother’s side of the family, had served with a
particular regiment at some time or another. This would
invariably carry weight with its commanding officer. This
family connexion was indeed conspicuous in many regiments of
the Indian Army and such names as Rivett Carnac, Young-
husband, Hamilton, De Lisle, Lumsden, quickly come to mind.

In my own particular case I had an uncle who had served
many years in India with the British Army. In my boyhood
days he had told me stories of his service in India which had
created a desire on my part to serve in India, particularly in
the Indian Army. My love of horses had decided me to try for
the Indian Cavalry and it was a great satisfaction when I saw
my name posted to a cavalry regiment. I had previously met
a Lieut.-Colonel Rivett Carnac who commanded the 14th Jat

CADET SCHOOL 29

Lancers and he was good enough to agree to have me in his
regiment should there be a vacancy. I had put this regiment as
my first choice. I had, however, stated that, failing this, I was
prepared to go to any other cavalry regiment and this rather
subtle move on my part was apparently the deciding factor.

I glanced quickly through the list of postings and saw at
once that my first choice had not been successful but noted
with satisfaction that I had been posted to the 8th Cavalry,
Indian Army. My one year’s attachment to a British regiment
in India was to the Middlesex Regiment, of which there were
two or three battalions serving in India at that time. From now
on, I realized that I was completely on my own as I knew no
one in either of the regiments to which I was going. Perhaps
for a moment, for the first time, I felt rather lonely.

After a second’s thought, however, I considered myself
lucky to be going into the cavalry and received the congratula-
tions of the other cadets who had not been quite so successful
owing to the scarcity of vacancies.

It was with mixed thoughts and feelings we grouped to-
gether and discussed our various postings with excitement as to
where the various regiments were stationed. We next discussed
our respective journeys which would spread us all over India.

During the next few days the break-up was complete.
Cadets were leaving at different times according to their train
times of departure. Some would be going in groups to the large
cantonments of northern India, others would have to depart
singly for some outlandish destination. The times and departures
of the various trains were displayed on the notice board. The
necessary papers were collected from the orderly room and
hurried farewells were taken. It was strange to realize that in
many cases men who had been great friends just parted and
never saw or even heard of one another again. Such was the
case with me and my friend, Thompson. We travelled a little
way together and then separated as he was off to Calcutta
while I was to stay in southern India. Strangely enough, we
never ran into one another again.

My destination was Bangalore where the British regiment,
to which I was attached for one year, was stationed. I had

30 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

passed through it on my way to the cadet school and had been
down on leave from the Nilgiris once or twice so I was feeling
quite happy about going there as I had been rather impressed
with the place.

We soon arrived at my destination and I stayed to see my
friend off to Bombay where he would catch the mail train to
Calcutta. Then I gathered my kit together, climbed into a
gharni, and drove to the officer’s mess in Trinity Road at the
end of the large Maidan which runs through the centre of
Bangalore. It appeared my regiment was in a brigade which
had left recently for the frontier of India and that only the
cadres of the various regiments were left behind. This resulted
in a combined station mess—much more easy and informal
than a regimental one.

It did not take long to find quarters and settle down to
depot life with its hundred-and-one jobs, such as receiving and
despatching drafts of men either to their regiments or sending
them on leave. As is usual in depots, officers are scarce and there
is always plenty of work. I was soon busy and the cadet school
quickly became a thing of the past. From an interview with the
adjutant of the combined depots I understood I was to stay
there a few weeks but would very shortly be sent with a draft
to join a British regiment on the North-West Frontier.

I was thrilled with the idea as the thought of being able to
see active service before joining my Indian Army regiment
was something I had not expected. It was generally under-
stood that cavalry regiments did not get the same opportunities
for service on the Frontier because this was more essentially
work for the infantry. I took every opportunity of talking to
officers and N.C.O.s who had served on the Frontier to try
and get some idea of what to expect and what training would
be the best for me to specialize in.

In the meantime I was given all kinds of work which gave
me valuable experience in dealing with men. On one occasion,
however, I was detailed for one of the most unusual and un-
pleasant jobs I ever experienced in the whole of my service
career. It was indeed my first experience in having to deal
with women in an official capacity. It shook my youthfulness

CADET SCHOOL 31

and trust in my fellow men and in human nature in general.
I certainly saw life from a totally different and rather a sordid
angle.

A certain British Regular Army regiment, which shall be
nameless, had been ordered back to England after many
years’ service overseas. The regiment at this time was on active
service in the Persian Gulf and it was decided that they should
sail direct from there without returning to India first. Pre-
viously they had been stationed in Bangalore for some years
before going overseas. As was usual they had left behind an
established depot which looked after the regiment’s interests.
Besides the usual work of keeping the battalion supplied with
drafts, looking after returned casualties, and keeping check on
surplus kits and stores, there was the extremely difficult task
of dealing with the wives of the N.C.O.s and men who had, of
course, been left behind when the regiment went on active
service.

Now that the regiment was already on its way to England
it was decided that the wives and children should follow in due
course. My job was to sort them out and get their papers and
passports in order for their move. It sounded simple enough,
but what a load of trouble I ran into.

I duly set up a special office for the purpose. I issued orders
to the effect that all wives were to be brought before me for
inspection of their marriage certificates and the birth registra-
tion of their children. I would then be able to make out a
correct and formal list of those who would eventually sail for
England. On the surface it appeared as a straightforward and
plain instruction, but the effect was dynamic. The storm which
burst around me was such as I never want to experience again!

When I arrived at my office on the morning following the
issuing of the order, I found my sergeant-major surrounded by
a large crowd of excited and angry women of all colours with
their crying and frightened children clinging to them. As soon
as I appeared they rushed over to me in a frenzy and tore at my
uniform, waving pieces of paper at me and shouting. With the
help of the sergeant-major I managed to struggle into my
office and then asked him what the trouble was.

32 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

He explained he had dropped the first bombshell by
declaring that I would see only those women who were in
possession of their marriage certificates. They would be issued
with passports and given warrants for the voyage to England.
Although this appeared to be quite a straightforward statement
the effect was too alarming and tragic for words. The children
screamed and the women became very abusive and it was with
difficulty that the sergeant-major restored some kind of order.

As the women came before me the cause of the trouble was
very obvious. It appeared that the number of lawful marriage
certificates amongst them was very few indeed. The most
extraordinary pieces of paper were placed before me which
quickly showed up the whole tragic affair. For every genuine
legal document there were a dozen which were just scraps of
paper, of no value whatsoever. They had been written out by the
soldiers themselves. Some would state that Bill Smith was
married to Mimi Lou, signed Bill Smith. Others would say,
‘Kiki Narani is the wife of Tom Atkins. Signed T. Atkins’. In
some instances they were written on coloured or printed paper
such as beer-bottle labels or labels from tinned food—in fact,
anything which might look impressive.

These unfortunate alliances had taken place while the
regiment was overseas and men were continually passing in and
out of the depot. The English women who had originally left
England with the regiment were, of course, in order. A number
of genuine marriages had taken place while the regiment was
stationed in India, but the large number of Indian women who
were waiting to see me had no proper certificates to support their
claims. My decisions caused a riot among them and my move-
ments were so hindered by these women as I went to and from
the office that I had to have a protective guard to escort me.

By the time this unhappy business was sorted out I had
become very unpopular and I was truly thankful when it
was finished, and the orthodox party was finally on the train
to Bombay. Even they had to be escorted on their way to the
station. It was certainly very pathetic and to my young mind
rather tragic, but there was little I could do about it except
get on with the job in my official capacity.

3
Buck, Bees and Monkeys

reported that there were numbers of buck in the

district around Nundi Drooge. There two very high
hills stood out and dominated the surrounding countryside
about thirty miles north of Bangalore.

I was anxious to experience my first shooting trip in India
and a party of four of us decided to go there for a week-end. We
were not out after anything big but were contenting ourselves
with the buck. We reached the hills in the late afternoon and
found a good piece of camping ground on the grassy slopes of
Nundi where we pitched our tents. It was a lovely spot with
wonderful views of the surrounding country. Our Indian
servants cooked an excellent dinner which was appreciated by
all, we then made a camp fire which we sat around as the
night was cool. After yarning for a time we turned in reason-
ably early as a full day was expected on the morrow.

After an uneventful night I awoke in the early morning
and decided to take a walk down the hill and look for a suitable
place from which to draw our water supplies, for drinking and
possibly for bathing. I could see a stream in the distance and
made my way towards it. Coming across a light track which
looked as if it might lead to the water I decided to follow it.
Presently the path ran through a lovely, leafy wood with tall,
overhanging, brownish-green trees making a delightful shaded
lane reminiscent of the countryside of England, although not
quite so green. I walked slowly along, enjoying the cool
morning air, when suddenly there were the sounds of noisy
chattering mingled with ear-piercing screams just as if one

2 33

A FEW days later the Shikaris came to the mess and

34. INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

had come upon a children’s playground. I looked up sharply
and there, in the trees in hundreds, was a huge tribe of monkeys
of all shapes and sizes. There were large male apes surrounded
by the smaller females with tiny baby monkeys in their arms.
They definitely took a dim view of my sudden appearance
which had disturbed them in their quiet leafy home.

I, too, was startled as I had not expected to run into such
an enormous number at one time. I stopped and looked about
me; all I could see was monkey faces peering at me from all
angles—they were everywhere. I thought the best thing was to
take no notice and started to walk on in as casual a manner as
I could. I quickly stopped, however, as I saw all the large
males come clambering down from the trees in a most threat-
ening way to take up positions right across my path. At the
same time the females and infants let out the most awful
screeching and the whole assembly bared their teeth at me.
The noise reached an alarming crescendo.

By now I was thoroughly perturbed and did not know
quite what to do. When I stopped again the screeching died
down but the large males did not move from the track in front
of me. I decided I would just try and frighten them away by
running forward, shouting and clapping my hands, but I had
no sooner started to move forward when the whole tribe came
towards me in a most alarming way. Completely unnerved as
I could see they meant to be nasty, I decided to turn about
and walk away as quietly and as quickly as possible. It was as
much as I could do to refrain from bolting but felt this show
of fear might cause them to come after me, with what result
I didn’t dare think! However, this idea worked and I got
away without further trouble.

As I gradually retreated back up the track I could hear the
screaming and chattering die down. From what I found out
later it appeared I had come upon a huge tribal gathering of
monkeys right in the middle of their mating season, which was
a very dangerous thing for anyone to do. This was one of their
favourite haunts and the Indians were particularly careful to
avoid it, as these were the sacred monkeys of southern India.

I found my way to the water by another route and then

BUCK, BEES AND MONKEYS 35

returned to the camp just in time for breakfast. When I told
my story to the others everyone thought it a great joke. I was
considered pretty tough and the idea of my being afraid of
monkeys caused a good laugh. My reply was that they could
go down the track by the same way and try to get through the
monkeys themselves. This they said they would do, and after
breakfast they went down to the water the way I directed them.
The laugh was still on me when they returned, however, as
they all declared that they had not seen one monkey of any
description.

That day we had some fine shooting and finished up with
a good bag of buck and snipe. In the evening we again had a
good meal and sat around the camp fire yarning. It was a
lovely Indian night and everything seemed peaceful when
suddenly there was a yell from young Megson. He called to us
to sit tight and not move as he felt the coldness of a snake pass
against his bare legs stretched out on the ground. We all
strained our eyes towards the place he indicated and there,
sure enough, was a large cobra slowly twisting and winding its
slithery way across the grass in front of us. It had probably
been drawn by the smell of cooking meat or by the light or
warmth of the camp fire. One of the party quickly grabbed
the tent mallet and killed it with a hard blow on the head.

This incident shook us up a little as from now on everyone
imagined that his camp bed was just a haven of rest for snakes.
Before turning in we all searched our beds very thoroughly
but the joke was that, in the morning when we got up and
shook out our beds, J.E. found a large tarantula spider resting
snugly under his pillow, and to all appearances it had been
there most of the night.

One never knows what to expect in the Indian jungle. The
tarantula is, without doubt, the most feared of all spiders in
this part of India both by Indians and Europeans. It looks
rather like the hand of a human skeleton but with hairs on
the fingers. It is black and very sinister-looking and measures
five to six inches from front to rear when it is standing up. It
is a blood-sucker and like most of the blood-suckers it stings
to draw the blood with its poison. There is no doubt that

36 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

we were in a particularly wild piece of country on the
fringe of the jungle and it was not to be wondered that wild
life in its most fearsome forms should be around. I think J.E.
got it right when he said that one did not mind it so much
during daylight when one was awake but that it gave one the
creepy crawlies when one had to try and sleep with them about.

We had not finished with insect life yet. During breakfast
we discussed our plans for the day. We were shooting again in
the morning but I said I would like to stop early and go for a
climb up one of the two peaks to have a look at the view from
the top. Two of them were not keen as they considered it would
be very hot climbing in the middle of the day, but I argued
that it would get cooler the higher we climbed. J.E. agreed
with me and said he would like to come. It was arranged that
we should all shoot for a couple of hours and then J.E. and |
would break off and make for the mountain. We had another
bag of snipe and after leaving our guns at the camp the two
of us started our climb. It was hot going at the start, in fact
so hot that we thought of giving up the idea as the sun was
blazing down and the effort of climbing added to our dis-
comfort. However, after continuing for a little while longer, it
certainly became noticeably cooler and we were able to take
breathers in some delightful shady nooks among the rocky
boulders. In our efforts to avoid the sun we had got round to
the more densely covered part of the hill.

I began to have doubts as to whether we were wise in going
through some of the thick undergrowth unarmed for fear of
disturbing some bigger game such as panther or leopard,
although J.E. said he was fairly certain that they did not hide
at such heights. We were now several hundred feet up and as
we looked down on to the plains below, I was inclined to agree
with him.

We had reached a small plateau and up to now there had
been no climbing in the strict sense; all we had done was to
walk up slopes some of which were a little steeper than others.
To go higher from this point meant going into a dark rocky
corner and actually climbing on to and over some big rocks—
there was no other way. We stood close in by the rocks and

BUCK, BEES AND MONKEYS 37

were debating as to whether we should go on when a large
bee buzzed just in front of J.E.’s face. I glanced round and
there above us was a huge cluster of mountain bees. I turned to
him and, pointing to them, said, ‘That decides it, let’s get out
of here.’ At that moment J.E. struck out with his hand to
brush the bee away, and in the next second they were upon us
in their thousands. We were, of course, in shirt sleeves and
shorts with no protection and the result was one of the most
unpleasant experiences of my life. They attacked us from every
side and their stinging was agonizing.

We started to run the moment they came for us and we
went down that hillside like bats out of hell. They followed us in
their hundreds, clinging to our faces, hands, arms, knees, legs
and the pain was excruciating. We practically fell down the
hill in trying to get away from them, but they never left us.
We were now nearly blind with the stinging, as they clung to
our eyes in particular. This is always one of their special
targets when attacking their victims. Where we were running
to I did not know, but there is no doubt that we were making
for the water which, luckily for us, we never reached. We were
both stung to unconsciousness and dropped in our tracks.

When we were found some hours later we were still uncon-
scious and in a dreadful state. Our faces, hands, arms and legs
were swollen to double their normal size and in some cases we
were bleeding from the stings.

When I came round I was in the Bangalore hospital with
a nurse bending over me taking out stings with a pair of
tweezers. The pain was still severe and, in fact, lasted for
exactly seventy-two hours, when suddenly it stopped and the
swellings began to go down quickly. The nurse told me she
had taken over one hundred stings out of my face and head
alone. For weeks afterwards I would come across one here and
there when brushing or combing my hair. Apparently we had
been very lucky in becoming unconscious before reaching the
water in our headlong rush towards it. From what we heard it
was the usual thing for the bees to chase the animals which
disturbed them to the water, hover over them as they
ducked to get away from their stings, until they became

38 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

unconscious with the poison and were drowned. From this
little tragedy we had been spared, but I understand that by this
unsought for innoculation by bee stings, we are now immune
for life from rheumatism and arthritis, for which I am truly
thankful.

As I look back over the years, I always consider that that
little shooting trip was one of the most eventful of my life, but
the experience gained from it stood me in good stead on
many future trips. Through it I was able to avoid some of the
pitfalls which lie in wait for those who shoot in the jungles of
India.

I had been at the depot three months when the adjutant
sent for me one morning. A draft of men were going to Pesha-
war in northern India to join their regiment which was in camp,
training for an expedition which was going to Waziristan very
shortly. I was the officer detailed to take charge of the draft.
The officer commanding the depot would see me in a few
minutes. The next moment I was before the C.O.

‘Ah, Guest,’ he said, ‘you appear to be a keen young
officer. I am pleased with the work you have been doing here.
I thought you would like this opportunity of going on active
service.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ I answered excitedly. ‘I like the idea very
much. When do we go?’

He smiled at my enthusiasm as he answered. ‘In three
weeks. You will see that your men are vaccinated, inoculated
and completely outfitted by that date. Get along to the medical
officer right away and make the necessary arrangements. That
will be all.’

I saluted smartly and was away before he could change his
mind! From what I gathered later from the adjutant, although
I was rather young for the job, my exceptional physical fitness
had influenced the C.O. in giving me the post.

I had three weeks in which to see that the men were
vaccinated and inoculated against smallpox, paratyphoid and
plague and to get them properly equipped with all the necessary
articles which had to be drawn from the quartermaster’s stores.

The inoculation took a full week because we suffered from

BUCK, BEES AND MONKEYS 39

the effects and were in bed for three days, but there were no
complications. We drew our arms, equipment, stores etcetera
and in a short time were ready to move.

The journey was uneventful but trying, as six days in a train
across some of the hottest places in India can be very uncomfort-
able. We finally reported in to the regiment which was under
canvas just outside Peshawar.

4.
The North-West Frontier

mountain warfare in the country around Peshawar, we

were given a rude reminder from the tribesmen that
they, too, were in training for our coming. The first essential,
they thought, was that if there was going to be a frontier war,
they too had better try to replenish their stocks of arms and
ammunition.

What more suitable place on which to carry out a raid
for this purpose than the Peshawar Garrison, which, at that
time, was so full of troops as to be uncomfortable! The barracks
in Peshawar were full, and, on the plains outside the canton-
ment, large camps were going up daily to accommodate the
extra troops which were pouring in to form the column from
all over India.

When the troops reached the camps, they immediately
placed extra double guards on their arms and ammunition, as
they had been warned about raiding tribesmen. Of course, the
tribesmen were well aware of these special precautions against
them and no attempted raids were made at the well-guarded
camps.

They looked elsewhere for their chances, and were not
long in finding them. One evening a troop train arrived at the
station and out poured crowds of soldiers who were only too
relieved to get out of the train in which theyhad been cooped up
for days. The train had come from southern India where they
had been training, but they had not experienced that extra
vigilance with regard to arms which becomes second nature
to troops of the north.

[Jn the time we were undergoing training for

40

THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER 4I

They were a territorial battalion which had been sent out
from England some months earlier to relieve regular regiments
for service overseas. They were, of course, full of enthusiasm,
and the idea of seeing service on India’s famous North-West
Frontier was truly exciting.

As the G on the bugles sounded they poured out of the
train and lined up on the platform. The order was given to
march to the road just outside the station and pile their rifles
and dump their equipment. A sentry was put over the arms
whilst they returned to the train to unload their baggage and
stores. As was usual at any railway station in India there was
always a large crowd of interested Indian spectators. This
occasion was no exception and they appeared to be looking on
quietly from a reasonable distance.

The troops had returned to the train and were very busy
unloading, when suddenly there were yells and commotion.
It appeared that among the interested spectators were a group
of Pathan tribesmen, looking like ordinary bazaar people, who
were just waiting for this chance. They had made a quick rush
forward, knifed the unfortunate sentry before he could give the
alarm, and every man grabbing a rifle, they were away into the
crowded bazaars like lightning. By the time the troops were out
of the station there was not a soul to be seen except the badly
wounded sentry. It was indeed a damaging blow to the prestige
of that particular regiment, as they considered themselves
smart and well disciplined. They were just learning frontier
warfare the hard way. Needless to say, this regiment never lost
another rifle, and made its mark during that campaign which
was about to begin.

We were in Peshawar for some weeks while the muster of
troops went on, and all kinds of sporting activities took place
daily to keep the troops from getting bored and to help to
raise their morale. A rather uncommon event took place in
which I became the most concerned spectator. It appeared that
a certain gunner of the Royal Artillery wanted to try for a
particular sporting record. This was an attempt to set up a new
time for double sword swinging. The man practising this
exercise has a cavalry sword in each hand and swings them in

42 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

exactly the same way as Indian clubs are swung—that is, the
swords are swung backwards and forwards, sideways, upwards
and downwards in unison. There is a standard number of
evolutions to the minute to be carried out, and, of course, the
whole action must be non-stop from the commencement of
the swing until the end of the exercise. The record at this time
stood at around the figure of sixty-six hours, which is just under
three days and nights. Even though one may not be in sym-
pathy with this particular kind of effort, it is a prodigious one.

I had been taking part in a number of sporting activities
which had been going on, and having been successful in quite
a number, I was soon singled out as one of the several officers
selected to help supervise this rather odd and peculiar record
attempt. The officers concerned met and drew lots as to which
times we should be allotted for individual supervision.

Our task was to sit at a table on which was a time clock
and a stop watch, check up the number of swings to the minute
and when the man was being fed, check the number of swings
carried out with one hand. We had also to see that he was not
helped in any way contrary to the rules which controlled this
strange and unusual sport.

The man began his swinging at eleven o’clock on the first
night. He had taken a good rest during the day and by starting
fresh that night he was expected to have little difficulty with
his self-appointed task for the first twenty hours or so. I had
already carried out a spell of duty and everything appeared to
have gone according to plan.

My next spell of watch was from midnight on the second
evening until four o’clock in the morning. I had a feeling, and
it was generally agreed, that this might be a difficult and more
testing period for the sword swinger.

I arrived just before midnight and relieved the officer doing
duty. I asked him how things were going and he stated that
everything was O.K. and that the man appeared to be in
excellent health and fine fettle. The reason for this was that his
friends who were interested in his task had arranged a late
dance on this second night with the idea of entertaining him,
helping him to keep awake and generally preventing him from

THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER 43

getting bored. The event took place in the barracks dance hall.
The man was at one end of the room, on a raised dais, stripped
to the waist and gaily swinging away to the time of the dance
music. The whole scene presented a most unusual spectacle.
The dance band was at the other end of the room and as the
dancers tripped around they yelled words of encouragement
and made jokes to keep him amused.

As I took my seat at the referee’s table and exchanged
remarks with the officer I was relieving, everything appeared to
be going well. The man looked in wonderful condition and,
although perspiring slightly, was performing his self-appointed
task with confidence.

At one o’clock in the morning the dance came to an end
and after more shouts of encouragement the dancers departed
and a rather depressing quietness came over the whole scene.
All that was left now was the man still swinging away with his
swords, his helpers, or seconds as they were called, a supervising
sergeant-instructor of the Physical Training Corps who was
acting as my advisor, and, of course, myself.

I settled down in my chair with a book and hoped that
my period of duty would pass quickly with little or no incidents.

All went well for just over an hour and then things began
to happen with remarkable suddenness. I glanced up from my
book and noticed that the man was swaying about more than
usual and that his swinging of the swords had lost its rhythm.
I picked up my watch and started to check up on the revolu-
tions. All of a sudden there was a terrific clang as one of the
swords flew out of the swinger’s hand and crashed to the floor.
This was an unusual happening as the swords are attached to
the wrists by a looped cord. This cord had apparently broken
or rotted with sweat and he had lost control of his grip. The
rule governing such a happening was that I could give him a
warning to pick up his sword and continue swinging again, but
that the time allowed for this procedure was ten seconds only,
equivalent to the same time as a knock-out at boxing. I was to
call out the time in precisely the same way—that is, one, two,
three up to ten, and if the sword had not been picked up, then
he had broken the rules and was out of the contest.

44 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

As I began to call out the time I could see that the man
had suddenly lost control of himself and all knowledge of what
was going on around him. He was swaying about like a drunken
man with wild staring eyes and a nasty, bad-tempered expres-
sion and had lost almost completely the power of his limbs.

His seconds were urging him to pull himself together and
pick up his sword. They were not allowed to touch it or him.
He was a pathetic sight as I continued to count and was
swearing and cursing all and sundry. It was one of those extra-
ordinary moments of one’s life when ten seconds seem like
eternity.

At last I counted him out but as I called out, so this seemed
to bring him to some kind of understanding and with it a
violent sense of injustice, and a conviction that I was the cause
of all the trouble. He suddenly came lurching towards me with
a look of mad fury on his face and brandishing the one remain-
ing sword. He looked as if he wanted to kill his imaginary
tormentor. I managed to jump up in time and quickly dodged
out of his oncoming rush. By this time his seconds and the
physical training instructor had grabbed hold of him and
brought him down. They managed to rob him of the sword,
but he was now fighting like a mad man—as indeed he was!
I had to join in and it took the four of us all our time to hold
him down. We got hold of some rope and tied his arms and
legs together.

I immediately sent for the medical officer, who, luckily
enough, quickly arrived. He gave him an injection and
gradually our man quietened down. While we were waiting
for the M.O. to come we poured buckets of water over him, as
he was undoubtedly suffering from heat stroke.

The whole thing was very alarming and I must say I never
want to see again such a spectacle, dignified by the name of
sport. They kept him in hospital for a few days and when I
saw him later he was very apologetic, but appeared little the
worse for his extraordinary experience.

According to rumour, a task force was being formed to
invade Waziristan on a punitive expedition. It consisted of
two columns. One, to be known as the North Column, was to

THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER 45

assemble in the district between and around Peshawar and
Nowshera. The other, known as the South Column, was fore-
gathering around Rawal Pindi.

Troops were pouring in from everywhere and _ intense
training in mountain warfare had been going on in the
surrounding hills for some little time. When the columns were
in full strength and had undergone sufficient training they were
to entrain to their respective destinations. These were two small
fortress stations situated in the North-West Province. The
North Column was to be based at Bannu and the South
Column at Dera Ismail Khan, better known as D.I.K. From
these bases the expedition would set out. The general tactical
idea was that the North Column in Bannu would advance
across Waziristan in a south-westerly direction and the South
Column would march north west from D.I.K. Both columns
would finally converge on the capital town of Wana, which
lies well hidden in the hills of southern Waziristan.

Provided both columns were successful, the whole country
would be covered. Under this plan of campaign the Mahsuds
tribesmen of the north and the Wazirs of the south would be
forced to come to terms with the G.O.C. the expedition.

The time taken for this operation depended entirely on
the amount of resistance offered by the tribesmen to either
column. There were many reasons which could cause delay to
the venture, such as sickness, bad or unusual weather, which
might mean a breakdown in supplies. Either column might
meet with fierce resistance by the tribesmen causing it to be held
up and so upset the timing of the campaign.

The distance which the North Column had to cover was
over two hundred and fifty miles, a formidable task indeed
since every inch of the way was to be covered on foot. The South
Column were to do about half this distance but was more
likely to meet with stronger and stiffer resistance.

Perhaps it would be interesting at this stage to look into
the reason why for a hundred years the North-West Frontier
of India has been a hostile battleground and a source of
trouble to the British rule in India.

It has been said, without a vestige of truth, that the

46 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

British have kept the Frontier hostile so that it could be used
from time to time as an active service training ground for the
British and Indian armies. This is, of course, a complete figment
of the imagination. The fact is that in their conquest of India
more than a hundred years ago, the British eventually reached
the mountainous regions of the Himalayas and the Hindu
Kush, a vast terrain of wild unbroken country inhabited in
parts by uncouth warring tribesmen, who, from time im-
memorial, have lived by raiding the more settled farmlands of
the plains of India. Their own lands are so barren and
unproductive that any little setback in the weather can quickly
reduce them to famine standards. They have no particular
liking for farming and their badly tilled lands produce nothing
like their subsistence requirements.

The result is that, being tough fighting men, they prefer
to live free wild lives, gaining their livelihood by raiding the
camel convoys which must use the trade routes through the
passes and periodically descending to the plains for a full-scale
raid on the hard-working farms of India.

Afghanistan, the country which adjoins the north-west
of India, has never been helpful in the matter of defending the
boundaries, and thereby accepting their share of responsibility.
Because of this fact the obvious solution was not possible. The
Indian Government would have administered the country up
to its boundary and the Afghan Government up to theirs. The
failure of the Afghans to play their part meant that the wild
tribesmen could take cover in Afghanistan territory with no
fear of being brought to task by the Afghan Government and
they could then harass the tribesmen on the Indian side when-
ever the opportunity presented itself. It is difficult to put the
blame entirely on the Afghan Government, because, their
country being very poor, they were not strong enough to fight
and disarm the tribes and so the situation remained unaltered.
The tribesmen, mainly Pathans, have been allowed to occupy
and live their own wild lives in this mountainous district
providing they behaved themselves within reason. When,
however, they stopped fighting among themselves and made
trouble by raiding the peaceful farms of India, then a punitive

THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER 47

force would be sent against them to try and teach them the
error of their ways.

In this particular case the tribesmen had taken advantage
of the fact that England was at war with Germany and they
considered themselves safe from punishment for the time being.
That they had been got at by the enemies of England there
can be no doubt, because, when later they were forced to
surrender their arms, great quantities of these were of German
origin and it was this which enabled them to put up a much
stronger resistance than usual. It also caused this expedition
to suffer the biggest number of casualties a frontier action of
this size had ever known.

For many years the Indian Government had tried to keep
the peace by making annual grants of money to the heads of
tribes, to enable them to ride the periods of distress. They
considered this a cheap alternative to the cost of a campaign.
These grants could be withheld at the discretion of the British
political officers who administered the various areas according
to how well the tribesmen behaved. Things would go well some-
times for long periods, but sooner or later the tribesmen would
get bored with the inactivity and their demands for increased
grants to keep the peace would dismay their political officers
who negotiated with the Indian Government on their behalf.
When these negotiations broke down then war became
inevitable.

On this occasion, because of their increased supply of arms,
they had become arrogant and their demands were out of
reason and consequently this punitive expedition was the
result.

On the way up we had to make our way to a landing stage
named Mari Indus. We heard there that a territorial infantry
battalion was on its way to the frontier and that it was their
first experience as they had been in India only a few months
having relieved a British regular infantry regiment which
had gone overseas.

I received orders to act asliaison officer to them, instruct them
as to the correct numbers for embarking on the ferry and give
them their destination that day. They duly appeared, marching

48 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

towards the village of Mari Indus, and I went along to meet
them. I contacted their adjutant and was about to give them
their instructions when I was promptly asked if, before any-
thing more was done, it would be possible for the men to have
a swim, as the sight of the big river, Indus, had excited them.
It appeared that they had been on the march for days and were
very hot and dusty so they were clamouring to be allowed to
go for a bathe.

This was a problem which I felt quite certain had never
previously arisen and I, for one, did not quite know the answer.
However, it was my job to advise them and so I quickly sug-
gested that because of the danger of depth and current I had
better test it myself and see if it was possible. Their colonel,
who had joined us by this time, appeared to be very happy at
my gesture, as he said he knew nothing about these Indian
rivers, and he would be only too pleased if I would do as I
suggested. With no further ado I quickly slipped off my clothes
and from the end of the landing stage dived into the water to
the cheers of the troops who had quickly tumbled to what was
happening.

Immediately I hit the water I knew I was in trouble because
of the amazing speed of the current. As I came to the surface
I called out that the current was too fast and that nobody
must come in. I could see by their faces that they had under-
stood as they watched me being carried away to the centre of
the river at a great pace. They called out to ask if I was all
right. I shouted back that I was, but I was now feeling very
alarmed as the pace I was going was very frightening. I
realized that it was impossible for me to attempt to get back
to the landing stage and so decided to swim with the current
down stream. I found that I was being drawn more and more
towards the centre of the river, which was very wide, and that
as I got nearer the. middle the current there was much faster.
In the distance I spotted a curve bearing round to my left, so
I decided to try and make for the river bank on this side, and,
as luck would have it, I saw a huge mud bank right in front of
me. I thought this was my only chance and struck out for all
I was worth to try and make it. Luck was certainly with me as

THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER 49

I swam straight into it and managed to land, although with
some difficulty.

It was a ghastly experience as the mud was just soft and
dreadful for several inches, and for a moment I feared it was
going to swallow me up. It was firm enough, however, for me
to be able to climb out on to the solid bank. I was now about
half a mile from where I had entered the water and I had to
make my way back along the road. I was completely in the
nude and, to make matters worse, I would have to go through
the village to get back to the landing stage. It had to be done,
though, so off I went at a little trot, even though the sun was
blazing down.

As I reached the village there were loud cries from the
villagers and they disappeared right and left into their huts
in alarm, and in a matter of seconds the main street was empty.
This part of the walk back did not worry me unduly as I had
realized that I had been very lucky indeed in getting away with
my life. The next part was probably the most embarrassing, as
when I reached the end of the village there were the British
troops lined up in two long lines all the way to the landing-
stage. There was nothing I could do. I simply had to run the
gauntlet by walking right through them.

The cheers and laughter were terrific, to say nothing about
the things that were said! It was generally agreed, however,
on all sides that I had done a good piece of work in saving
them from what might have been a catastrophe. There was
no doubt that had they gone into the river there would have
been a disaster which might have taken a lot of explaining
away.

It was probably some such incident as this which inspired
Noel Coward some years later to write his famous song, ‘Only
mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun’. I quickly
got into my clothes and felt none the worse physically, although
I must admit I had been badly shaken and horribly embar-
rassed. The colonel thanked me for what I had done and I
thought I detected a note of relief in his voice.

By this time the men had given up all hope of a swim and
so, as usual when there was nothing left for the British soldier

D

50 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

to do, he made tea. Yes, tea, and what a wonderful drink it js.
It has always been my humble opinion that for anyone to
appreciate the real value of tea they must go to the lands from
whence it comes, India, Ceylon and China, and drink it when
a blazing sun has played hell with you.

The ferry-boat which had been plying backward and for-
ward across the big Indus River was now alongside the landing-
stage. It was time for a party to go aboard. As my job was
finished here I decided to get across as soon as possible and join
up again with my regiment. The ferry chugged its way over the
swiftly moving river to the landing-stage at Kalabagh Gat. I
said farewell to my companions, who were still pulling my leg
and laughing about my recent little escapade, and walked
along the road leading to the high ground where my battalion’s
camp was pitched.

On all sides one could see just tents and then more tents.
It looked as if the whole British and Indian Army were on
this campaign. As a matter of fact it was exactly half a division,
but when half a division, together with all its transport and
supply services, is crowded into a comparatively small area it
gives the impression of being a very large army. An Indian
infantry brigade at that time consisted of one British battalion
and three Indian battalions and its supply services.

I walked through the brigade lines to join my regiment
and, as I passed along the lines, I took a look at the Indian
infantry regiments which were in our brigade. The 1st Gurkhas
were the first lines I came to, and what a picture of a camp they
made. The dressing of their tents and pegs was just about the
straightest thing that could be done without a sextant or
theodolite. Everywhere everything was in perfect order, and
somehow their lines looked just that bit more extra special in
comparison with other regiments, either British or Indian.
Next to the Gurkhas were the 7th Rajputs, another grand
regiment with a particularly fine looking lot of men. The
British regiment in this brigade was the Middlesex, to which I
was attached, and our lines were opposite the Rajputs. Next
to us and opposite the Gurkhas were the 2nd Punjabis.

At the top of the lines of the four battalions was the brigade

THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER 5!

headquarters. The whole layout was one of military efficiency
and orderliness which did the brigade credit.

The next few days were spent in getting ready for the long
march into the Frontier territory. This meant waiting for
stores, guns and ammunition to come up. When one realizes
that everything had to be brought up either by camel or pack
mules in those days, then one understands what an enormous
amount of organization had to be carried out for an expedition
of this kind. Day after day, hour after hour, the camel convoys
arrived with their valuable loads of stores of all descriptions.
It is difficult to realize that every single article of food or
material had to be carried all the way from Rawal Pindi or
Peshawar, which were about a hundred and fifty to two hundred
miles away.

What an amazing animal the camel is! Surely no domestic
animal has served mankind better over the thousands of years
of civilization. As one watched these long convoys, which
appeared to be endless, winding their way over some of the
most terribly cruel terrain in the whole wide world, one could
almost visualize the long tortuous journey man has made in the
struggle for survival. How one hates the very sight of camels
when one first comes into contact with them. Their stench is
nauseating, and together with the stupidity, absurd appear-
ance and their apparent slowness, it all seems to build up a
dislike which certainly has no justification when one has had
more to do with them.

It is a strange fact, but where camels are so life is hard and
difficult. What tougher places are there on this earth than the
frontiers of India and Asia, the deserts of India, North Africa
and Arabia? Possibly the wastes of the Arctics, but there at
least one never goes thirsty. In such places the vital and very
ordinary needs of life soon become scarce on the slightest
provocation, and then the full worth of the camel quickly comes
to be appreciated. The violent dislike which one has conjured
up gradually turns to an affectionate gratitude which I believe
lasts a lifetime.

Our main work at this time was the unloading and loading
of stores, and a junior officer would find his day taken up by

52 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

being in charge of large fatigue parties for this sole purpose.
This work went on all through the heat of the day and it be-
came very trying for all concerned. With so much to do the days
passed quickly, and we were now ready to get on the march
again. Our first destination was Bannu, which was more than
a hundred miles from Kalabagh Gat and would mean marching
over some very tough country. The march proceeded day after
day without much excitement, but one incident stays in my
memory.

One morning we had been jogging along some flat country
in the orthodox manner of march discipline, that is, marching
by the clock and going steadily for fifty minutes and halting
for ten minutes and on again. After about two hours, while the
morning was yet young, everyone started complaining of a
faint but ghastly smell. The troops, of course, started passing
rude remarks and blaming the regiment in front of us! Instead
of the smell passing away, it gradually got worse and worse
until it became thoroughly repulsive. Nobody could quite
make out what was happening, and, as it had been with us for
the best part of two hours now, it was really getting
unbearable.

At last the mystery was solved. It was a dead camel which
had died on the march, and, of course, all that could be done
with it was to let it lie there and be devoured by the vultures.
These terrible birds had, in fact, given us our first hint as to
what the trouble might be. As we approached the carcass we
could see them flying slowly on their way to the feast. When we
actually came alongside the body, which was lying not far off
our road or track, there they were in hundreds, screeching and
fighting all over the animal in their endeavour to get their fill
before sundown, when the hyenas and jackals would come to
finish the job. A truly ghastly sight and one that lingers long
in the memory. The unfortunate thing about that carcass was
that although we passed it by, the dreadful stench stayed with
us for the same length of time on the far side, and, in fact, it
appeared to be with us practically all that long day’s march.

The following day we reached Bannu, which was a very
small outpost in those days. There in the centre stood the fort,

THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER 53

which became G.H.Q. and all around it our regimental lines
were formed. The fort itself was typical of the type of mud-
coloured blockhouse which is a feature of the frontier. With its
high walls, it had all the appearance of a prison and it was said
that a spell of duty there was so grim that the names of officers
who had committed suicide covered the wall of the small mess.

Once again we were halted for several days so as to allow
the convoys of stores to catch up with the law of fast diminishing
returns.

As we penetrated farther and farther into those sinister
hills, so the problem of stores became greater and greater.
Our long lines of communication were now stretching right
back into India which meant setting up small depots every
few miles. Each of these depots would have to have a small
detachment of guards to protect it, and this, in turn, meant
leaving enough stores behind to feed them. These depots would
also become medical centres for the sick and, as the fighting
progressed, casualty stations for the wounded with the added
burden of medical supplies, which meant extra camels in the
convoys.

a

Frontier Warfare

little with our training, as it was now weeks and weeks

since we had done anything but march and store fatigue.

We took the opportunity to get in some rifle shooting, as we
were reminded that we would shortly be shooting against some
of the finest natural shots in the world, the tribesmen of the
North-West Frontier. That this was so, we were soon to find out!
It was at Bannu that I first experienced real fly pest. This

is something which has to be seen to be believed. The flies
buzzed around one’s face in hundreds, particularly the eyes
and mouth, lapping up the salt from our perspiration. When
meal time came it was absolutely impossible to get food to the
mouth without a desperate struggle to free the piece of food
about to be eaten from hundreds of flies. They became so bad
that a special order was sent back to India for fly swatters,
and in due course every man of the column was issued with one.
For a few days things improved as everyone waged war on the
flies, but, as more and more convoys arrived, they quickly
became as bad as ever, and so stayed with us throughout the
campaign. Of course, our old friends, the camels, were blamed,
but they were, in fact, only responsible for the first hatch, and
to make sure that they got off to a flying start! The food wastes
and the latrines of an army on the march did the rest. Unfor-
tunately, with the flies came disease and now the sick parades
in the mornings began to assume large proportions, and our
ranks were beginning to show signs of it. The medical base at
Bannu grew at an alarming speed and the medical officers
and their orderlies were being run off their feet. Women were

54

1D URING our halt at Bannu we had also to catch up a

FRONTIER WARFARE 55

not allowed up as far as Bannu in those days, so there were no
nurses, no sisters and no matron. All staffing of the field
hospitals was done by the men of the R.A.M.C. Although they
were tough and crude in everything they did and were fright-
fully unpopular, there is no doubt that theirs was a thankless
but merciful job of work.

The most common form of illness was amoebic dysentry,
which was no doubt caused by the flies, but unless this reached
the medical stage, a man would just call at the medical tent for
chlorodyn and would be expected to carry on. This was only
the beginning of our troubles, as a bad outbreak of sand-fly
fever suddenly descended upon the camp, and both British and
Indian troops went down in numbers with it. It lasted from six
to seven days, and while a man had it he was quite incapaci-
tated and incapable of doing anything except lie up. It started
with a temperature which quickly rose to quite an alarming
height, and then when it went down, the patient remained in a
very weak state for two or three days. It seemed to be very
similar to a bad go of influenza in that it was just as catching
and very few officers or men escaped it entirely. Like most
contagious diseases it was worse with some than with others,
and, unfortunately, it caused quite a number of deaths. The
treatment was bed and that wonderful standby of the frontier,
quinine.

The time had come for the column to set about its purpose
as a punitive force to clear up the hostile tribesmen right
through Waziristan from Bannu to Wana, a distance of about
a hundred miles. The overall tactical plan was that two
columns, each consisting of two brigades, should strike right
through Waziristan, one column based at Bannu and the second
column based at D.I.K., with the object of clearing the country
of all hostile tribesmen. As a punitive expedition not only did
we have to fight as the occasion demanded but should villages
or strongholds put up a resistance, they were to be razed to the
ground.

As I have mentioned above, this particular expedition
had been caused by the tribesmen taking advantage of the
war in Europe, raiding the peaceful farming communities of

56 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

India on a large and brutal scale, stealing cattle, carrying off
women and killing the men who tried to resist them. Usually
the British political officers of the frontier tried to bring about
a peaceful settlement as they were, quite naturally, against
using force as it meant the Army fighting the very people
among whom they carried out their work. However, when the
negotiations broke down then war became inevitable. In this
case negotiation had failed because the indemnity which the
Indian Government demanded from the tribesmen to pay for
their cattle stealing and wantonness was more than the tribes-
men were prepared to pay. So a punitive expedition had to be
launched against them to make them pay or be punished.

The time had now come for the Bannu column to march
right through Waziristan to Wana, a hundred miles or so to
the south-west, to clear the whole country of hostile tribesmen.
These consisted of the Wizers of the north and the Mahsuds
of the south. Both were tough fighting tribes, not too well
armed, but sufficiently so to put up a good fight when they
dictated the time and place. Their arms consisted of anything
from muzzle loaders to the most up-to-date rifles, which might
have been stolen from Peshawar or Pindi only the previous
week. Their swords were few and old, but they were sharpened
and could be most effective, when in the hands of these
turbulent tribesmen.

Every tribesman carried his ill-famed knife. This is one of
the most sinister weapons one could cast eyes on. The handle
is made of bone, which or whose it matters not, but the blade
is long and thin, broad at the base and going quickly to a fine
sharp point with a thick stiffening edge running up the back of
the blade. The whole thing is very crudely made and encased
in a rounded plain wooden case. This was carried loosely
by the tribesmen, just tucked into their belt at a slant across
their navel. The idea being that it was readily accessible. They
held it with the thumb on the handle near to the blade and
delivered their blow rather like a low uppercut in boxing. This
meant that the knife went into their opponent’s stomach and
with a rip came out somewhere around the throat. It was with
these merry little thoughts in our minds that we marched out

FRONTIER WARFARE 57

of the camp at Bannu at three o’clock one cold and frosty
morning.

The way ahead looked flat and uninteresting, but the going
was very rough underfoot. In those days we marched in fours
with one company out in front acting as advance guard, and
then the main body with its pack mules, followed by a rear-
guard. From now on there was no wheeled form of transport,
which meant that there was a mule to every four men. When
machine-guns, signal equipment, Q.M. stores, medical supplies
and so on were added, it worked out at a mule to every three
men throughout the brigade.

The Gurkha Regiment was well out in front on this first
stage of the march into Waziristan. They formed the advance-
guard for the column and a fine job they made of it. The
British Regiment was at the head of the column and as first
light began to break we could see the tough little men spread
our right across our front in extended order.

We had been going a good three hours and the dawn was
just breaking when the sound of rifle shots brought the column
to a sharp halt. It appeared the Gurkhas had been ambushed
and the tribesmen had got in their first blow. The Gurkhas’
main body had got on to the scene pretty quickly but not
before the tribesmen had taken their toll. At last the signal
came for the column to get on the move again, and presently
we came to the scene of the trouble. The sight before us now
brought home to us very quickly the fact that we were very
much at war. About thirty dead Gurkhas, including a young
British officer, were stretched out awaiting burial. Scattered
about on all sides were a number of dead tribesmen all minus
their heads. These we could see piled up in a heap away over
to our left flank. They made a gruesome sight and looked as if
they had been put there for counting.

There is no doubt that the Gurkhas had taken their revenge
swiftly and surely. We asked why the Gurkhas hadn’t buried
their dead immediately, and the answer we got was another
grim reminder that frontier warfare was just that much
different from any other type. It appeared that burials only
took place at night for a very special reason: so that the graves

58 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

could be dug in an unseen and unmarked spot. The tribesmen
could not then return and dig up the bodies in a kind of
mutilation vendetta besides robbing them of their uniforms.

This ambush had been rather a surprise as the column had
not yet reached the hilly country which, of course, afforded so
much more cover and opportunity. It turned out to be a
blessing in its sombre way since it brought home to everyone
very suddenly the fact that there was really a war on; and from
now onwards everyone became more alert.

The troops, especially the British, had been getting rather
fed up and bored with the continuous marching which had
now been going on for three or four weeks. The sun had been
blazing down day after day, as it did in the dry weather, and
as the days went by, so the rations had got more on to a war
footing, which meant bully beef and biscuits, jam and biscuits,
gallons of tea (which one never tired of) and lime juice, which
is issued for special reasons. One is that it cools the blood and
the other because it prevents outbreaks of scurvy owing to the
lack of fresh vegetables in the diet.

In spite of its reputed excellent qualities, strangely enough,
one just got thoroughly sick of it and I don’t think I have ever
willingly tasted the beastly stuff since!

With all these trying things it was small wonder that the
troops were getting—very aptly—‘browned off’! However, now
that there had been some real fighting all these little pin-
pricks seemed to vanish into thin air and everyone suddenly
became alert and, in fact, soldiers once again.

This skirmish had started at first light and had gone on for
two hours or more, which put the march time back. This
meant that we were that much later in reaching our desination.
This was a small fort blockhouse named Bogi Khel, which was
occupied by a company of the frontier force.

When we arrived it was too late, for the tribesmen had
over-run it and killed all the occupants, including the two
British officers in charge. We now received our next shock and
reminder of the utter ruthlessness of the Mahsuds. The bodies
of the two British officers had been mutilated and their remains
had been left hanging on a post on each side of the fortress gate.

FRONTIER WARFARE 59

We got them down and that night buried them in an unmarked
grave, levelling the ground so that no mound showed. There
was, of course, no question of putting up any kind of cross or
headstone and although I remember the names of those two
officers today as if I had heard them only yesterday, I cannot
see that any good purpose would be served by recalling them.
It is better to let them rest in peace.

What a price one could pay for serving in India, and in
particular on the North-West Frontier.

At the end of the next day’s march, which passed without
incident, we had left the last of the flat country behind us and
had entered the hills by the dried-up river-bed which was our
road. On either side the hills towered above us, and from now
on our journey had become very precarious to say the least of
it. While the main body of the column marched on its way
through the bed of the dried-up river, every hill which com-
manded a dominant position had to be occupied by pickets.
This meant that the regiment doing advance-guard duty had
also to supply the pickets for clearing any important hill which
protected the main body of the column. This hill picketing was
indeed a strenuous business. The officers in command of the
advance-guard would decide that a certain hill-top which
appeared to command an important position would have to
be manned. The next picketing party, which usually consisted
of a subaltern, sergeant or senior N.C.O. and from ten men to a
platoon according to the strategic importance of the hill, was
quickly called for. The hill in question was pointed out and
orders would be given to occupy it as soon as possible.

The party would set off immediately and climb the hill,
which might be anything from two hundred to six hundred
feet. They would be watched and covered by the advance-
guard until they reached and gained possession of the hill-top.
It was usual for two pickets to go out at a time, one away to a
hill on the left bank of the river bed and another to the right
bank. When these two signalled that they were in position, then
the advance would move a little farther, and another two
pickets would be despatched farther forward. The last of the
picket command would go forward, climb the hill, keeping a

60 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

look out for trouble by sending half his men up in short rushes,
whilst the other half covered them, and vice versa. When the
party was near the top they would lie low, take a breather and
then, on the word of their commander, take the top of the hill
with a rush in case it was occupied by tribesmen. Having got
to the top their job was to make themselves a defensive position
by building a round wall about three feet high. This is known
as a sanger and from it the picket would be able to see the main
body of the column passing along the river-bed, and at the same
time have a good field of view of the surrounding country and
so prevent the tribesmen from making a surprise attack on the
column.

The country through which we were now going was the
worst I have ever encountered in my life and one which is not
easily forgotten. Underfoot it was broken rock for mile after
mile, with the remains of the river winding its way like a silvery
snake with no ending. Every now and again it would wind
right across our path and we would have to wade through it;
sometimes it would be deep enough to reach up to our waists
and deep enough to cause trouble with the mules and their
packs. The surrounding hills were just rocky scrub with,
indeed, very little scrub, and, consequently, no shade of any
description. The only shelter was that of some particularly
large boulders on which the sun blazed down. To touch them
would burn the hand. How any living being could exist in such
a country was beyond understanding and, indeed, it appeared
to be completely devoid of any form of life either human or
animal, or even vegetable.

The picketing continued slowly, for it is a laborious business.
The pickets had to be in position and signal ‘all clear’ before
the column could move on. When it had passed a certain point
the pickets would be withdrawn from their sangar on the hill-
tops by the rear guard. This was the duty of another regiment
of the column.

The responsibility of the officer commanding the rear-guard
was great indeed. It was his important duty to see that not a
man or animal or even dropped pieces of equipment were left
behind. His position at the end of the column was clearly shown

FRONTIER WARFARE 61

by a party flying a large red flag. Under no circumstances was
anyone to be left behindit. When a picket was withdrawn from a
hill the flag party would have to wait until the picket had come
down from its position and rejoined the small main body of the
rear-guard before proceeding on its way.

It will be seen that such a slow method greatly retarded the
progress of the column and that the number of miles which
were marched in a day were very few. It ranged from about
five to around ten or twelve. This would vary according to the
amount of fighting which took place daily, and sometimes it
would be held up by a number of false alarms by the advance-
guard. At times the actual going would become very difficult
because the river-bed had narrowed into a gorge. On these
occasions a way up the sides of the hills had to be found. There
would, as a consequence, be difficulties with the mules and
their packs and the detour would add miles to the journey.

No expedition had been this way before and the general
officer commanding was dependent on political officers for all
information as to which points to make for to find suitable
ground on which to pitch his large camps. These camp sites
had to be chosen with great care for many reasons. The most
important thing, strangely enough, was not a strategic factor,
but safety from sudden inclement weather. The camp had to be
pitched at a good height above the river-bed in case of a sudden
spate. It would also have to be so situated that heavy rainfall
could not cause a stream of water to run down the surrounding
hillsides and flood it out. Strategically it had to be made as
free as possible from surprise attacks. It also had to have access
to good water supplies, which is always difficult in the dry
weather. The water needs of a column with its ten thousand
men and three thousand animals were great indeed, and any
possibility of a failure in its supply could be disastrous to such a
venture.

One morning I was the duty officer in charge of the animal
watering point. This was a far more complicated and important
job than would at first appear. No less than three thousand
animals of the column had to be watered at least twice a day.
When one considers the amount of water which such a number

62 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

of animals consume it will be realized that a suitable place for
such a big task was not always easy to find.

The water front had to be a reasonable length with a good
supply of deep water. At the same time the ground underfoot
had to be stony if possible. Unless such conditions were found
the first draft of animals to water would very soon churn up the
muddy bottom with the pounding of their hooves and so make
the water undrinkable for the animals following.

A strong picket or guard had to be mounted at strategic
points so there could be no surprise attack by a party of tribes-
men. They were always on the look-out for some such chance.
Horses had to be watered before the mules and camels. The
various regiments were given a timetable so as not to get con-
gestion at the water front. The water duty officer had to
remain on the spot to see that all the orders were carried out
and the timetable adhered to until all animals had been
watered. Then he would withdraw the pickets and, once these
were inside the perimeter wall, no man or animal was allowed
down to the water again.

While the watering was going on I decided to walk a little
way up-stream to check up on the flow of water and to see if
there was any chance of making it run faster and, therefore,
cleaner, by being able to move large stones or small boulders
from any catchments. I had gone a little distance but was still
in sight of the pickets when I came upon a fair-sized pool
which had been formed by the blocking action of a large
boulder. I was considering whether it would be possible to get
this moved when I noticed under a large rock, which gave a
nice piece of shade from the blazing sun, a large number of fish.
It was obvious that they had been trapped in the pool as the
water was too shallow at the outlet for them to escape.

I was quite excited and immediately sent a message back
for my orderly to come at once and to bring my mosquito
net from my bed with him. He soon arrived and we quickly got
down to dragging the pool with the net. In a matter of minutes
we had caught some forty or fifty fair-sized fish of a type
similar to small English trout. I divided the catch with my
orderly and he went away very pleased with the idea of being

FRONTIER WARFARE 63

able to give his friends a surprise feed of fried fish and chips!
My share I took along to the astonished mess sergeant and told
him, ‘Say nothing and serve the fish this evening as if it was
nothing special.’ It was funny to see the amazement on the
faces of the officers as the trout was put before them. We had
been living on tinned bully beef for weeks on end and the fresh
fish was a lovely surprise! It was greeted on all sides with
exclamations of pleasure and gratification. Needless to say I
was very popular that evening! However, there was one
difficult moment when some testy major refused it on the
grounds that, as a fisherman, he could not eat a sporting fish
which had been caught in a mosquito net. It is difficult to
understand such reasoning in the circumstances.

The common sense of my action was proved when a few
days later news was received that there had been a disaster to
a camel convoy. A large supply of stores on its way from the
depot at Tank to the column camp had been caught in one of
the narrow gorges by a spate of water which had destroyed
them completely. It appeared that there had been heavy rain
in the hills and the water had swept them away before the
convoy was able to climb the river banks to safety. The spate
alarm had failed to reach them in time owing to some difficulty
in getting the message through before they had entered the gap.
The awful calamity was upon them without warning and the
loss of stores to the column was very serious. No less than sixty
camels and men, fully laden with stores such as food, ammuni-
tion and medical supplies, had been swept to destruction by the
raging torrents. There was little chance of salvage.

The immediate effect of the tragic loss was that the column
had to go on reduced rations for several days until the stores
could be replaced.

It made one realize how precarious was such an expedition
and how the fate of thousands of men and animals depended on
things going according to plan, and it taught one to be prepared
for any eventuality.

The column was now hundreds of miles from India, the
only source of supply, and the sole means of maintaining this
supply was by camel transport. Even mule carts were no longer

64 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

used as the country had become so hilly and rocky that any
idea of wheeled vehicles was quite out of the question. The most
serious thing about such a disaster was the loss of the camels
and their sowars, for, whereas there were plenty of store
replacements at the base in India, it was difficult to obtain
more camels and sowars immediately. It would also be difficult
for the supply service to make up the loss of time such a disaster
entailed.

Sickness had now attacked the column in a big way.
Ordinary dysentery had been fairly common but amoebic
dysentery was becoming more frequent and was causing the
troops, both British and Indian, to go down in large numbers.
The medical corps were too short-handed to cope with the
situation and the only way was to detail those who were recover-
ing to act as medical orderlies to the more serious cases.

A large medical base had been set up back at the camp at
Kirkee and from here the sick and wounded were cleared. The
serious cases were sent back to India and those who had
recovered were drafted back up the line to rejoin the column.
Owing to the increasing number of casualties, another forward
medical camp had to be formed.

When the column moved out from Ispana Raja it was
decided to leave behind yet another casualty base with a small
hospital. I had been taken ill with an attack of sandfly fever
and had not quite recovered when the column moved out and
so remained behind. Sandfly was the least serious of the many
complaints which were afflicting us. It only lasted a few days
and although it left one rather weak it departed as quickly as it
came.

I watched the column move out from the hospital tent and
did not like the idea of being left behind in an isolated
camp, especially as we were now so far into Waziristan.

It was also decided to make this camp an advance stores
depot and for this reason I had visions of a raid on us after the
column had moved on; not a nice thought when one is feeling
weak in the stomach! A company of one of the Indian regiments
was left behind to guard the camp, which was comforting, but
I looked forward to rejoining the column as soon as possible.

FRONTIER WARFARE 65

I recovered in a few days, but found it was not so easy to
geton the move again because a draft to rejoin the column had to
be of fighting strength before it could move out. The next camp
was about twelve miles away—almost a day’s march in such
bad going—and an all clear report would have to be received.
In the meantime, there was plenty of work for me to do at this
base. Stores were still coming in by convoys and these had to be
sorted out and made ready for the next move up to the column.
Guard duties had to be done to relieve the officers as they, too,
were getting scarce. Fatigue parties were on the go all day,
and as these consisted mostly of men recovering from sickness,
it was no easy job.

One morning the senior medical officer sent for me and
said that the hospital had had a few deaths and that it would
not be possible to carry on with the present system of having
hidden burials by night. He said he wanted a small cemetery,
and would I undertake the task of getting one made as soon as
possible.

I immediately got together a fatigue party of the conva-
lescent men from the hospital and drew up a plan. From what
information I could gather from the M.O. I decided that a piece
of ground about eighty yards by sixty yards would be large
enough. This I paced out and got the party to line the boundary
with large pieces of rock and stones. Somewhere about the
middle an entrance was made, and then the lines were white-
washed.

That same evening our first graves were dug and three
bodies were interred. In the next few days one or two more
were buried. I remembered the name of the man in the first
grave because he died alongside me in the hospital tent after a
very short illness. His name was Dalwood. I went to a lot of
trouble to have crosses made with the men’s particulars so
that a good standard would be set for those to follow.

The sequence to this rather grim story is that when I left
that camp with a draft to rejoin the column, there were about
a dozen graves in the cemetery, but when I returned with the
column some months later, it was unbelievable to see the size
to which it had grown. My little piece of ground with its white-

E

66 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

washed stones had been replaced by a built-up wall and now
measured two hundred by a hundred yards and was nearly
full. This was quite a shock as I had not realized that our
casualties both in action and sickness had been occurring at
such an alarming rate.

When I met one of the political officers he gave me an
assurance that this cemetery would be maintained and not
interfered with by the tribesmen. I wondered.

A few days later, after I had rejoined the column which
was on the move again, I was posted as officer in charge of the
rear-guard—a most exacting duty. It was a particularly difficult
day owing to the fact that the column was passing through a
piece of country where the hills which had to be picketed were
higher than usual. They were very high indeed and because
of this it took a much longer time for the pickets to come in
after they had been signalled to withdraw from their positions.

This caused a lot of tedious waiting about in the heat of
the sun and everyone was getting very tired. Sometimes it
would take as much as an hour for the pickets to rejoin the
rear-guard from the time they were signalled to evacuate their
sangar on the hill-top to the time they reported in.

My company commander, who was usually mounted, had
decided to leave his horse with me and had given me per-
mission to use it if necessary. The column was moving very
slowly, but there were always a fair number of stragglers owing
to foot trouble, and mules shedding their packs, so I was able
to make good use of the charger in these circumstances.

The last picket had been called in and had rejoined the
rear-guard. I was behind and had made sure that there were no
more stragglers, when suddenly my horse cast a shoe. Owing to
the extreme roughness of the ground I decided I could not go
on and would have to cold shoe him at once. My sergeant
suggested getting one of the men to do it, but as it was the end
of the day and everyone was hot and weary, I insisted on staying
behind and doing it myself. He then said I had better have a
couple of men to stay with me while I shod the horse but I
refused, thinking it would only take me a few minutes and that
I would be able to travel faster without them and so catch up

FRONTIER WARFARE 67

with the rear-guard. He reluctantly let me have my way. The
guard continued without me. I dismounted and quickly set
about the simple task of cold shoeing the horse with a spare
shoe which was in the saddle holster. The horse’s hoof was
between my knees as I bent down to remove the old nails when
suddenly everything went blank.

Apparently I had fainted from the effort of bending down
with the sun beating on my neck. When I came round the
sun was going down and the light was going. There was not a
soul in sight when I first glanced round and pulled myself
together by sipping water from my bottle. I realized at once
how foolish I had been in taking such a chance by staying alone.

I began to feel scared and a little unnerved, but decided
I must finish putting on the shoe, which I did. This job done, I
then looked around me just to make certain I did not start off
in the wrong direction, as I realized what a grave risk there was
of being captured by the tribesmen. I shuddered to think what
the outcome of that might be!

It was not difficult to find my direction as, although the
sun was going down, I was able to get my bearings by its
position before moving off. How long I had been unconscious
I was not sure as I had not noticed the time. Luckily I had
slipped the reins of my horse well inside my left arm when I
had started shoeing, and the horse was probably too tired to
move anyway. I took a quick look around through my field-
glasses. Imagine the shock I got when I saw in the distance
about five or six tribesmen coming up the river-bed. I could
not make out whether they were men or women, but luckily
for me they were at least two miles away to my rear.

The next moment I had mounted and started off at a good
brisk trot. It was a comforting feeling to get on the horse’s
back, as I was not too happy on my feet. Besides feeling shaky,
I was definitely scared, and those sinister words of Kipling’s
‘Young British Soldier’ floated through my mind:

‘When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan Plain
And the women come out to cut up what remains
Just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains

An’ go to your Gawd like a soldier.’

68 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

It took me some time to catch up and as I came in sight
of the new perimeter camp I could just see in the falling darkness
the last of the stragglers and the rear-guard flag going in.
Nobody was any the wiser as to what had happened and when
I reported in to the company commander I did not tell him
that I had missed being captured and skinned alive by not more
than half an hour.

The forward troops were already well advanced with the
building of the perimeter wall, which ran right round the
entire camp. All the animals of the transport were being
picketed in the very centre and the various regiments were
allotted their sites in front of them. Their task was to build
a stone wall three and a half feet high immediately and then
join up with the regiments on their right and left flanks. This
wall would form a square inside which was the entire column.
The men building it were drawn up in a single line, after which
they took off their equipment and laid down their arms. They
would then face outwards with the camp behind them and
start building their piece of wall. When this job was com-
pleted they would make their own bivouac behind the wall and
stay put. Every third man became a sentry guard whilst the
other two went out in front of the wall to put up the barbed
wire. When this job was completed everyone would be ordered
inside the walled camp and under no circumstances would
anybody be allowed outside. Every third man would remain
on guard day and night so that the whole camp was in a
prepared state to resist any form of attack no matter from which
direction it came. Not until this building of the wall and wiring
of the outside was completed would any attempt to prepare
food be made.

As can be imagined, everyone set about the task with a
will and it was surprising to see how quickly a perimeter camp
could come into being. As soon as things looked ship-shape,
then the cooks would be allowed to get going with the food.
Of course, the first thing to be produced would be that wonder-
ful stand-by for British troops no matter where they find them-
selves, tea—or as it is better known by the troops serving in
India—char. While the food was being prepared the animals

FRONTIER WARFARE 69

would be watered and fed. This watering of the animals was
indeed quite a business, as only a proportion could be let out
of the camp at a time and an armed guard had to go with them
down to the watering point. This point had to be down-
stream below the place from which drinking water for the camp
was drawn. This operation took up a considerable amount of
time but it was all part of the job and by the time this was
completed and the meal finished, it was time for bed, or rather
sleep; but even this only applied to those not on guard duty,
which was still maintained by one in three. The men lay down
to sleep with their heads close up to and under the wall and
their feet pointing towards the centre of the camp. So, in the
event of an alarm, all a man had to do was to wake up and,
without getting up, just turn round and take up his place on
the perimeter wall. His rifle was by his side and, of course,
loaded and so, in a matter of seconds, everyone was in position
and ready for any eventuality. As can be imagined, such an
acute state of preparedness was not without its weaknesses, as
the following story shows.

One night, everything having gone more or less according
to plan, the camp had settled down. It was past midnight, all
the fires had gone out and only the restlessness of the animals
and the sentries disturbed that eerie quietness of an Indian
night. There was no moon but just that fierce blackness of a
starry sky. All of a sudden there was a shout from a sentry,
quickly followed by a shot, and in the next moment there was
pandemonium as the whole camp took up the bold challenge.
Every man was in position on his wall and letting fly with every-
thing he had. The noise was just terrific as machine-guns,
Lewis guns, and rifles were fired with a rapidity which was
staggering. Added to this was the baying of the animals and the
shouting of the officers and N.C.O.s.

The flashes from the guns and rifles lit up the whole
scene in the most spectacular manner and, together with the
fantastic din made by the whole procedure, it was one of those
moments in one’s life which are never forgotten. We never ex-
perienced quite such a happening again during that campaign.
It was the best part of an hour before the situation was

70 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

under control. Bugles sounded the cease fire and the awful
din subsided.

What had happened was that a jumpy sentry had heard
something rattling against the wire in front of his wall and,
after a quick challenge had fired off his rifle. Other sentries
nearby had become equally jumpy and, before anyone knew
what was happening, all had grabbed their rifles and started
firing away for all they were worth. The ‘something’ turned
out to be some poor, unfortunate donkey, possibly from some
tribesmen’s village, which had drifted into the wire in the dark.
The animal had, in all probability, smelt the corn and fodder
of the camp transport lines. It was, of course, shot to pieces and
when morning came all there was to be seen was one dead
donkey.

The episode did a certain amount of good in that it caused
a lot of good-natured banter between the various regiments, as
each accused the other of being jumpy and getting the wind up.
It also brought a lot of sanity and steadiness to the night
sentries. Nothing quite so silly happened again during that
campaign.

This particular camp was our first perimeter one and as it
was some time before the column got on the move again it was
used as a demonstration to show what the ideal perimeter
camp should look like. Every regiment set about improving its
wall and it was not long before a really fine specimen of a
North-West Frontier perimeter camp was built. Groups of men
from each regiment went around and looked at the work of
other regiments and all gained a little knowledge from each
other.

In the meantime, all kinds of warlike activities were taking
place. Each day and night, patrols were sent out and on all the
overlooking hill-tops were small outposts which had to be
watched and victualled. After a spell of duty these guards had
to be relieved, which was quite an ordeal. Relieving parties
had to be covered every inch of the way to the sangars and the
party being relieved had to be covered all the way back to the
camp. Some of these posts were as high as eight hundred feet
with nothing but loose stones and rocks under foot, and large

FRONTIER WARFARE 71

black and grey boulders dotted about everywhere. These were
capable of being used for cover for as many as five or six men,
and the tendency was to regard every boulder with suspicion
as a cover for snipers.

Scouting parties were sent out at the crack of dawn and
these would search the ravines and nullars for miles around
and would return to the camp at the end of the day hot, dusty
and very tired. Every party had to be checked in and out and
during the time they were out a system of communication by
signalling had to be maintained all the time. There were no
walkie-talkies in those days as they had not yet been invented.
Most of the signalling was done by flags and helio by day and
lamps by night.

This all took up a great deal of time and made the movement
of the column a slow, laborious undertaking. It had at least
one good result, and that was that as the weeks and months
went by the whole force became a thoroughly well-trained and
efficient body, well-versed in the arts of frontier mountain
warfare.

6

The Tribesman’s Revenge

HE days went by and once again the column moved out
of this well-established camp. From now on things began
to happen, as we were now right in the heart of Waziristan
and were being attacked from all sides. The route along the
river-bed became more difficult as the gorges narrowed and
the surrounding hills offered more cover to snipers and raiding
parties. Outposts would be attacked and, in some cases, com-
pletely overrun and wiped out. Large fighting units would be
sent out to try to engage the enemy in battle, but it was always
difficult to find an enemy force of any size. They preferred, and
rightly so, to fight the war on their own terms, which were never
to muster in force but to harass the column at all times and in
places of their own choosing. Gradually, however, the enemy
were being forced back as village after village was being cleared
and it became evident that sooner or later they would have to
make a stand and fight. This clearing of the villages was quite
an undertaking, which had to be carried out in an orthodox
way. When a village had been cleared of enemy snipers, which
were the only signs of life left in it as the column approached,
an attacking force would be sent in with the object of razing
the place to the ground.

Firstly, all stores of grain and fodder had to be taken back
to the camp to swell the food supplies of the troops and animals.
Then all timber and fuel dung had to be salvaged to replenish
the camp-fire stocks needed for cooking and which were
extremely scarce in this barren and treeless wilderness.

One particular village stood out on a piece of flat ground
towards the end of a large, open valley, with the hills fading

72

THE TRIBESMEN’S REVENGE 73

away in the background. From a distance it looked rather like
a child’s sand castle on some sandy beach. We approached it
across dried-up land which looked as if nothing could ever
grow on it. Possibly it might produce some small crop during
the year. The ground was hard and stony with no semblance of
shade or cover. The only kind of protective cover we could get
was that which we made ourselves. This we did by pushing up a
few stones and earth in front of our heads as soon as we came
under fire from the village. The attack on the village was by two
companies. One company was to advance in extended order on
a broad front with the object of swinging its right flank round
towards the village and so causing an encircling movement. The
other was to do the same but to swing its left flank round and
cause the tribesmen to retreat to the rear end of the village.
The troops were in position by first light and the operation
commenced just after dawn. We were about a thousand yards
from our objective and so out of range of effective enemy rifle
fire. We advanced slowly until the light broke and we reached
a point about six hundred yards from the entrance of the
village. Not a sign of life could be seen and it looked as if we
had an easy task before us. Any idea of quick success faded,
however, as we came within effective range of their accurate
fire and they soon had us scrambling to earth like rabbits.
The tribesmen had taken up good defensive positions behind
the hard-baked mud walls of the village and were able to bring
fire to bear on any section which got within their range. We
had started the operation in the bitter cold of a frontier morning
but now the hold-up caused us to lie on our bellies hour after
hour until the sun was well up and blazed down unrelentingly
on to our backs. Now and again we managed to move forward
a little, but, as we got nearer, we became sitting targets for their
confoundedly accurate shooting. Casualties began to get
heavy and our number dwindled as the stretcher bearers
following us picked up our wounded. We cursed and swore at
the enforced slowness of the operation. We blamed the flanking
platoon for not getting on fast enough and they blamed us, no
doubt, for not giving them sufficient covering fire whenever
they moved. The horrible truth was that the tribesmen were

74 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

too well concealed behind their mud fortifications for our fire
to be really effective.

We hoped that the mountain batteries might be brought
into action and made to shell the village. There was little chance
of that as the orders were that they must not be used because
of the possibility of setting fire to it. This would destroy the
timber which was so essential for fuelling the cooking fires of
the column. This was one of the more urgent problems of the
expedition! We just lay on the hot, stony ground with the
sweat pouring from every part of us, which caused the flies to
torment us almost to breaking point.

Gradually, however, the flanking movement began to take
effect and the tribesmen began to scuttle and make for the
hills. We had been getting nearer and nearer and, luckily for us,
their fire was less concentrated, and accordingly our casualties
became fewer. At last we were within two hundred yards of the
village and the order was given to fix bayonets. The bugles
sounded the charge and, with one last rush, we charged forward
with a yell and quickly took cover at the entrance to the village.

It was just after the successful attack on this village that I
ran foul of the General commanding the column. Being one of
the officers of the attacking party it was my job to make sure
that all grain and timber was retrieved from the village as soon
as it was cleared of the enemy. We had reached the entrance to
the village but were still getting the occasional sniper’s bullet
and I was not quite certain we were not running into a small
ambush from some of the nearest huts. Perhaps they were just
waiting for us to go in? I decided, therefore, to lead the first
party in myself. Our covering party was well placed and, as it
was ordered to cease fire, I ran forward with my own party
and, as I reached the first house, I hurled a hand-grenade into
the building just to ensure we were not running into trouble.
This was the usual procedure and had the effect of letting the
troops see that there was nothing to hold us up.

Unfortunately, on this occasion the Mills bomb had a
devastating effect, for, when it exploded, it set the house on fire.
As luck would have it, the G.O.C. came upon the scene just at
that moment and I received the full blast of his wrath. How-

THE TRIBESMEN’S REVENGE 75

ever, we quickly stopped the fire from spreading by breaking
down the huts and continued with our work of salvage.

I must say I felt a little peeved at the time. I thought I had
done a particularly fine job that morning as we had received a
lot of opposition from that village! It turned out that this house
was a fodder store and was just that much more inflammable.

We continued our work of salvage and it was interesting
to see how these villagers stored their grain. In practically
every hut there was a trap-door in the floor which led down a
number of steps into a large store room. This would be filled
with grain, but the soldiers going down into these stores had
to be very careful not to be overcome by the fumes, which was a
common feature of these godowns. Fatigue parties would get to
work immediately and grain would be put into sacks and loaded
on to mules for transportation back to the perimeter camp.

This was, of course, all part of the punishment, for ours was
a punitive expedition.

We were now far into the heart of Waziristan and from
our perimeter camp at Ispa-a-Rasan various forces of varying
sizes would go out on fighting patrols with the express purpose
of engaging the enemy in force if possible. Reports would come
in from the different regiments as to what was happening.

One day the Gurkhas were ambushed in a big way, but
had routed the tribesmen by outwitting them, putting up a fine
show. They had anticipated that when they had to go through
a certain gorge at Hadra Catel the Mahsuds would lay an
ambush, which they did. But the Gurkhas had sent out a
large patrol during the night to lie up in hiding and within
range of the spot where the attack would probably take place.
At dawn the small party reached the gorge and the tribesmen’s
ambush descended on them in a fierce attack. The hidden
Gurkhas were out of their hiding place in a flash and a savage
battle took place. At first there was very little firing because of
the half light and it was one of those terrible encounters, for
which the North-West Frontier has such a name, between the
famous Gurkhas’ kukris and the khanjars or pointed knives
of the Mahsuds tribesmen. It was indeed a bloody battle with
the terrible stomach slits inflicted by the tribesmen on the

76 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

Gurkhas and the heads of the tribesmen rolling all over the
place as the Gurkhas put their famous kukris to work. We
came upon the scene only an hour or two later and the carnage
was one of those sights which one never forgets.

The news in the next few days began to improve as reports
came in that patrols had contacted those of the southern
column. This meant that the two forces were beginning to close
in on the town of Wana from the north, east and south, but
this left a gap on the west from which the tribesmen could still
get out and operate, sometimes with telling effect. Battles
and skirmishes became more numerous and most units of the
column were in action at some time or other. Night pickets
had undergone some fierce attacks and in one or two instances
had been overrun with terrible results. Advance and rear-guard
actions had been fought with bitterness on both sides. We
appeared to be getting to grips with our elusive enemy at last!

The two columns, however, pressed on relentlessly and
carried out their task of clearing the country behind them. The
tribesmen had fallen back on the capital town of Wana, which
was practically surrounded, but were putting up even stiffer
resistance as the raiding parties grew larger. When this
happened the mountain gunners with the wonderful heavy-
weight mules were used with telling effect.

It was always a grand sight to see these mountain men go
into action by climbing some terrible slope in order to get into
position. In those days a battery consisted of four guns, one of
which was manned by British gunners who set a fine example
of team-work. Now that we were reaching the closing stages of
the campaign these guns were brought up to occupy com-
manding positions overlooking the town.

The time had come for the political agents to be called in todo
their work. This was to make contact with the Faqir to get him to
surrender and to arrange a meeting with the G.O.C. After a
great deal of talk with the agent going to and fro, some kind of
temporary agreement was reached and the cease fire sounded at
long last. It was arranged that the G.O.C. and the Faqir should
meet and discuss the terms of surrender. These, in general, meant
that the Faqir would be responsible for an indemnity of money,

THE TRIBESMEN’S REVENGE 77

a supply of grain and fodder to the columns and the surrender
of a fixed number of guns, arms and ammunition.

The meeting took place under a large tree just outside the
town. I was one of the officers in charge of a guard detailed to
attend the ‘Jirga’, or peace meeting, and we formed up in a
large square. A big table was covered by a Union Jack behind
which sat the general and his staff.

The Fagqir entered the square, followed by a number of head
tribesmen, and sat down on the ground facing the general.
Everyone was dressed for the occasion and the whole scene was
part of a colourful ceremonial. The parleying started and there
was fierce discussion among the tribesmen when some points
arose. I got the impression that most upsets were caused by
the question of the number of arms to be surrendered—the
tribesman loves his rifle! The terms were finally settled after
much talk and at last a party of the most murderous-looking
cut-throats began to file into the arena and proceeded to lay
down the most extraordinary collection of small-arms. There
were muzzle-loaders; matchlock guns with ram-rods; all kinds
of rifles dating back to the Indian Mutiny—and before—right
up to the present time; swords of great age and antiquity;
pistols and ammunition of all kinds, some of it obviously home-
made. Altogether an amazing assortment.

I was young and at an impressive age and that Jirga has
always stamped itself on my memory. The arms were counted
and recounted and at last the show was over, which was a good
thing for all concerned. It was my opinion at the time that we
could not have carried on the campaign much longer without
a strong supply of reinforcements, as our casualties from sickness
alone had run into thousands towards the end.

The column was indeed showing signs of distress and being
very much the worse for wear. Uniforms were ragged, frayed
and dirty, and boots had worn thin with the continual marching
and hard climbing; in fact, they became almost a major prob-
lem at one time. However, it was definitely over, or so we
thought, and the columns began to pull out and march back
to the large perimeter camps. Here it was decided to rest for
a few days before starting on the long march back to India.

78 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

A sports meeting was organized with the idea of raising
the morale of the troops, but the British troops were feeling
the effects of the hard conditions of the past months and it was
difficult to arouse any real enthusiasm for the meeting. The
fitter of the Indian troops took part and one item which created
a good deal of interest was the hill race between the Gurkhas
and the Sikhs. Teams of twenty men from each regiment
competed and we watched them through our field-glasses as
they clambered over a huge rocky hill of great height. It was
uncanny to see these men going up hills with almost the speed
of goats. It was a great race which the Gurkhas managed to
win although it was a close thing as the Sikhs put up a magni-
ficent show against the natural hill-climbing men of Nepal.

At last the camp was struck and the long march home
started. It was decided to return by a different route from that
by which we had come; via the town of Tank as this was the
shortest way out of Waziristan; and after several days of
marching without any further undue incidents, we reached
Tank. Here we found the congestion of troops very great owing
to the fact that both columns had chosen this route. We therefore
had to go to another camp which was not quite so well placed
as the rest. Whereas those camps were situated on suitable
high ground, the new camp was erected on a site which was at
a much lower level. There was a general air of relief and
relaxation as we marched in; everyone seemed cheerful. The
cooks had been sent on ahead to get the food ready and when the
men sat down to the first fresh food they had had for months
their spirits rose and the whole camp appeared contented.

Bugles sounded lights out in the usual way but most
people had turned in long before as it had been a hard day.
The night was still and the camp was in slumber when suddenly
the bugles sounded the alarm. But they were too late, the
calamity was upon us. Water, water everywhere, and, as I
put my feet over the side of my small camp bed, it was already
up to my shins and rising fast. I glanced at my watch—it was
three-thirty in the morning and completely dark. Somehow I
managed to get some clothes on and groped my way out of the
tent. Confusion was everywhere, everyone was shouting and it

THE TRIBESMEN’S REVENGE 79

was difficult to find one’s way. Men were groping about,
cursing and swearing, and no one could produce a light of any
description. The water was rising fast and there was a near panic.
Nobody seemed to know what had happened or what to do.

At last it was possible to hear the sergeant-major above the
commotion. ‘Everybody to the railway station with your rifles.
Don’t worry about your kits. Hurry up. Get to the station.’

Presently there was some semblance of order and, as one’s
eyes grew accustomed to the darkness one could see a stream of
figures plodding through the still-rising waters. I followed the
crowd and at last reached the station and climbed up on to the
platform.

The sergeant major yelled out in his powerful voice, ‘Quiet
everybody,’ and there was a general lowering of voices. Again
the sergeant-major bellowed, ‘All officers this way, please.
Come to the lamp,’ and, at last, there was a glimmer of light
as he waved a hurricane lamp above his head. A piece of the
platform was cleared and under the lamp stood the colonel
while the officers gathered around him. We then heard what had
happened. It appeared that the tribesmen had decided to have
the last word and had got their revenge. The laugh was on us!

Apparently when they saw that the retreating columns were
concentrating on Tank they quickly realized that all the troops
could not be accommodated on the high ground. They waited
until a large area of the low ground was occupied by camps and
then had diverted the river by blocking the normal channels
with mud and rocks and so sent the rushing waters plumb in
the direction of the camps with appalling results.

At first it was thought that the disaster might be followed
by a raid on the camps with the object of trying to recover
another lot of rifles to replace those that had been surrendered.
It was soon realized that the waters could not rise much higher
than the three feet which it had reached. Guards were quickly
posted at points along the platform and all men who had left
their rifles behind in the tents were sent back for them immedi-
ately. In fact, no man was allowed on the platform without his
rifle.

Gradually we got the situation under control and by this

80 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

time dawn was breaking. When it did the sight before us was
one of complete chaos, bordering on the humorous. Half-naked
and naked men were everywhere. Some were standing about
with only a shirt on, others with only a pith helmet, but all
holding on to their rifles. Gradually the funny side of it began
to be obvious and we all started to laugh but I think the real
laughing was done by the tribesmen!

It took hours for the water to subside and many more for
the troops to recover their wet and soaking kits and equipment.
The accommodation on the high ground had to be doubled up,
which added to the discomfort, and then, to add to our
troubles, people began to go down like flies with malaria.

Once again sickness struck a hard blow at us and the
casualties became another major problem. The railhead at
Tank had been working to capacity trying to get the troops
away, but when the malaria epidemic hit the camp then the
R.A.M.C. took over to get their patients away as soon as pos-
sible. As there were large numbers of stretcher cases which took
up a lot of space, this caused a big hold-up with the trains and the
exodus became painfully slow. Those of us who were well had to
stay behind, no matter which regiment was due for entraining.

I was young and fit and stayed until almost the last train,
which did not get away until two weeks after the night of the
flood. How some of the men kept going was amazing, as most
had had about all they could manage, and it was a great relief
to us all when we at last reached Rawal Pindi. Two days later,
even I could hold out no longer, and I went down with malaria
and a bad attack of jaundice.

An emergency hospital had been established up in the
Murry Hills above Rawal Pindi and those of us who were
considered bad cases were taken up by special ambulance
service in a few hours.

So, after nearly twelve months, one of the toughest frontier
campaigns of this century ended. It is interesting to note that
no form of mechanical transport was used during the whole
of that operation.

A few weeks later I had recovered completely and was on
my way back to the depot at Bangalore.

7

Silladar System

first appointment was to the remount depot. It covered

a large area of training ground near Agran Plain.
Here horses and mules were trained for their various assign-
ments before being despatched to the many units which
needed them. There was also a grass farm at Hosur about fifty
miles away where the animals were sorted out before being sent
to the main depot.

I was pleased to get the opportunity of gaining such real
experience with horses before joining the Indian Cavalry.
The work was particularly interesting because it covered so
many phases of horse training. Animals had to be found for
horse artillery, both light and heavy chargers for mounted
infantry officers and other services also had to be supplied.
For instance, draft horses were needed for the transport services
and mules for draft and pack—not to speak of the special mules
for the mountain batteries.

The work was exceedingly interesting and, as is always the
case with horses and mules, constantly exciting because some-
thing unusual is happening all the time. The question as to
which animals would be the best suited for some particular
demand was always an important one and it took up a lot of
time to get them sorted out. The days were full and time
passed quickly. I was learning a lot about horses which I knew
would stand me in good stead later.

At last my orders came—I was to report to my Indian
Army Cavalry Regiment, which was the 8th Cavalry Indian
Army, at Secunderabad. I had now completed my year’s

F 81

() N returning to the combined depot at Bangalore my

82 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

attachment to a British regiment and what a year it had been!
I had done depot work, taken part in a full campaign on the
North-West Frontier and spent a few months with Remounts.
I felt the year had not been wasted.

Before reporting to my new regiment I was given a few
days’ leave in which to pack and shop and generally equip
myself for the new venture. We also had one or two farewell
parties at the club and I had just enough time to attend the big
dance at the palace before I went.

The occasion was the birthday celebrations of the Maha-
rajah of Mysore and to end the week of festivities there was
to be a day of sporting entertainment for the Europeans,
followed by a grand ball at the palace.

The palace was a fine building in the style of an English
country house, built in the reign of Queen Victoria. It stood
in lovely grounds just outside Bangalore.

The sporting activities were a point-to-point for the
mounted guests and a treasure hunt for the unmounted. The
race was unusual in that the riders taking part in it were
allowed to change horses at the half-way point. This did not
mean that the rider with two good horses would have a greater
advantage for the simple reason that all riders had to be in at
the end of the first leg before anyone was allowed to start on
the second leg. It was a fine course across country with six
fences, including a water jump, finishing in front of the gaily
dressed crowd of spectators gathered on the lovely lawns of the
palace. There were two prizes, one for the winner of each leg
of the race. I was fortunate in winning one of them, the prize
being a beautiful riding-whip.

The treasure hunt was for a magnificent gold watch and
the difficult clues took the competitors through the delightful
grounds and gardens of the palace.

That same evening the ball was held and what a spectacular
sight it was! The only means of transport were rickshaws or
the occasional horse-drawn carriage. It seems strange to look
back and compare the quietness of the rickshaws with their
bare-footed coolies of those days to the noise of motor-cars with
their slamming doors which is so common today.

SILLADAR SYSTEM 83

As one entered the ballroom one’s breath was taken away
by the wonderful array of colour. There was the maharajah in
his robes of white and gold and wearing a be-jewelled turban
which sparkled with diamonds and rubies. He was surrounded
by his Indian court and their ladies in saris of lovely colours.
There were the bright dresses of the European women but
these were overshadowed by the mess dress of their officer
escorts and, in particular, by the spectacularly colourful mess
dress of the officers of the Indian Army.

The ballroom was large and on the grand style, lighted by
enormous chandeliers, each of a hundred lights. At each end
of the room was an orchestra, one with the conventional
instruments of the Western world while the other contained the
fantastically soft musical instruments of India. They took it in
turns to play and the contrast was striking.

One side of the ballroom was heavily curtained off with
coloured beads behind which was total darkness, but from the
sound of many voices it was obvious that there were people
behind it. They were the ladies of the palace harem and,
although they could see into the ballroom, it was impossible
see them. There was something very peculiar and uncanny
in being watched all the time one was dancing by an unseen
audience of over a hundred women whose chatter and laughter
could be heard quite distinctly.

Outside in the beautiful grounds, which were illuminated,
was an enormous, gaily coloured and decorated marquee. In
this was a magnificent champagne buffet which was being
served by Indian servants in decorative palace dress. The whole
scene was just about as brilliant and fantastic as could be
imagined. In my travels to many lands over the years I have
never again seen such splendour and magnificence. Parties on
such a lavish scale have become things of the past, together with
the costly uniforms which no longer exist, so I am glad to have
had such a wonderful experience which I enjoyed to the full.

A few days later I was on my way to Secunderabad, a
young man at the beginning of a new and exciting life—that of
a British officer of the Indian Cavalry. As I mused over the
thought it made me feel proud and truly elated. However, as

84 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

the journey dragged on I began to realize that I knew nobody
in the regiment. I felt certain, from experience, that—apart
from some very brief Indian Army instruction which quite
probably had not even reached the adjutant yet—I was not
even expected. With that sobering thought I hoped for the best.

I arrived in the late afternoon when most officers would be
away from their quarters. I gathered that the 8th Cavalry were
not even in Secunderabad but were about three miles away
stationedin a small cantonment named Begumpet. I managed to
get a gharri, or horse-drawn cab, from the station and duly
arrived at the officers’ mess.

On inquiring about accommodation I was told that a
certain Major Harpendale, who was a bachelor, would
probably allow me to share his bungalow, so I took my luggage
along and installed myself in one of the spare rooms. That
evening I decided not to attend mess as my kit was not un-
packed and I was therefore unable to dress for dinner. In those
days dinner was regarded as a parade and under no circum-
stances could one appear improperly dressed. To be correctly
dressed one wore blue overalls with Wellington boots and a
white monkey jacket in the hot weather and complete mess
dress in the cool weather. Dinner was served in my room and
I went to bed early as I was tired after the long train journey.

The next morning I reported to the adjutant and I was
taken in to meet my new commanding officer, Lieut.-Col.
Heather. My first impression was of a rather haughty man with
little sense of humour and an unfriendly manner. This turned
out to be a very correct picture and from what I gathered by
talking to the other officers it appeared that his appointment
to command the regiment had not been a popular one.
Although he was due for command by virtue of his seniority,
he had served so little time with the regiment that it was
generally thought he would not get it. For the past fifteen
years he had had a succession of staff jobs, and it was not usual
for an officer who had been away from regimental duty for so
long to get command of his regiment. So, perhaps, owing to
the rather exceptional circumstances of his appointment he
was feeling his way.

SILLADAR SYSTEM 85

After a very brief interview the adjutant took me into his
office where he introduced me to another young officer, John
Megson, whom he asked to show me around the lines. The
layout of the Begumpet Cavalry lines was very similar to many
others in India.

There was a parade ground with a road running straight
along one side of it. On this road there were a number of stone-
built bungalows which must have been there for many, many
years. At one end of the road was the colonel’s bungalow. This
was the first building as one approached the small cantonment
from Secunderabad. The officer’s mess was at the other end of
the road. There were about six or eight bungalows in between
and these were occupied either by married officers and their wives
or bachelor officers sharing, with sometimes two or three to a
bungalow according to the size of the accommodation available.

On the opposite side of the parade ground were the horse
lines, beyond them were the Indian officers’ quarters and
farther back were the men’s barracks.

The whole set-up was spacious and convenient. Sometimes
during the hot weather on a particularly sticky day the
inspection of lines, which had to be carried out every day by the
orderly officer, seemed to be rather difficult to cover because
of its very spaciousness, but, on the whole, they were well laid
out and adequate from all points of view.

As John Megson and I walked around together I was able
to get a good picture of what would be expected of a young
officer joining his regiment for the first time. Megson had only
been with the regiment for about eight months but this was
long enough to know what was wanted. He pointed out that
their cavalry lines were notable because of a rather tragic
memorial which stood close to a very sinister-looking well to
one side of the horse lines. On the memorial was engraved an
epitaph recording the tragic circumstances in which a certain
Lieutenant Young and his horse met their death while attempt-
ing to jump the nearby well in the year 1807.

The story goes that in attempting to jump the well,
horse and rider crashed and were both killed instantly. The
interesting thing about this story is the incredible type of jump

86 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

which this officer was trying to do. The well was thirty feet
deep and was surrounded at the top by a solid stone wall built
in an unbroken square. The wall was three and a half feet
high on all sides and the measurement from either side across
the well was twelve feet. The complete jump was over two
walls, each three and a half feet high, with a distance between
them of twelve feet and a thirty foot drop into the well below.
Allowing for the take off, which would add about six feet, and
the landing, which would add another six feet, it meant an
overall jump of somewhere around twenty-four feet. A really
formidable and remarkable performance. Apparently Lieu-
tenant Young’s charger was a particularly fine jumper and on
his way to stables parade in the mornings the lieutenant would
sometimes jump the well. It appears that on a certain morning
a general’s inspection was being carried out. The colonel of
the regiment was escorting the general around the lines during
his inspection and, as they were passing the well, the colonel
casually mentioned that he had a subaltern who made a habit
of jumping the well. The general is reputed to have said that he
did not believe it, and, as was common in those days, stated
he would be prepared to bet on it. The colonel was, of course,
happy to make the wager and sent a message to Lieut. Young
asking him to come over with his horse and jump the well for
the benefit of the general who had said he thought the task was
impossible.

Unfortunately, the colonel was unaware that Lieut. Young
was not on parade that morning being in bed with fever.
However, the message was duly delivered to the subaltern, and
whether he took it as an order or not is not known, but he
quickly had his horse saddled up and went over to the well
where the general and the colonel were waiting.

I have no doubt that the rest of the officers were gathered
round to see this incredible jump. I could almost visualize
everyone standing there waiting for this young officer and his
amazing horse to carry out the remarkable jump.

Whether the small and probably excited crowd disturbed
the horse or whether the fact that Lieut. Young was unfit
caused a certain nervousness in them both it is, of course,

SILLADAR SYSTEM 87

difficult to say. The awful thing is that on this particular
occasion their gallant effort failed and both rider and horse
crashed to their fearful death into the well before the eyes of
the small party and the general.

They are buried together under the stone memorial which
marks the spot beside the sinister-looking well. The epitaph
reads:

Beneath this stone lie the bodies

of Lieutenant Young and his horse

killed attempting to jump the well
1807

I well remember being very impressed at the time for
various reasons. Firstly, it was difficult to understand why
anyone should attempt such a jump, and then because it had
happened well over a hundred years ago. I was proud to think
that these same cavalry lines had been in existence for so long
and that young men like myself had served their country in
this far-distant spot.

We proceeded on our way round and I was introduced to
the other officers who were serving with the regiment. As was
usual with cavalry regiments there were only a few officers
actually with the regiment because of the various duties which
officers are called upon to carry out. Although the number of
British officers on the strength of a regiment was fifteen, which
included a medical officer, there were seldom more than eight
or nine serving in the regiment at any one time. A number
would be away on courses of instruction (either local or in
England), staff duties, leave or sickness owing to the Indian
climate which was particularly difficult during the hot weather.

The adjutant took me under his wing for the next few days
and I quickly began to learn something about the regiment to
which I had been posted.

The first thing was the composition of the regiment as
regards the kinds and types of men enlisted in it. These were
of Hindu Rajputs, Jats, Punjabi Mussulmen and Pathans. The
first two are, of course, Hindus, and the latter two are
Mohammedans.

88 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

The regiment consisted of four squadrons, A, B, C and D.
A Squadron was composed of Hindu Rajputs; B Squadron of
Jats and Sikhs; C Squadron of Punjabi Mussulmen and D
Squadron of Pathans. This division or segregation of the
different religious sects in the Indian Army had come about
as a result of the Great Indian Mutiny of 1857 and 1858.
Before then there had been whole regiments of Hindus only
and whole regiments of Mohammedans only. From experiences
during the Mutiny it was realized that seldom were there
strong religious feelings shared by both Hindus and Moham-
medans over the same incidents and at the same time. There-
fore, it was advisable to have composite regiments. By this
method at least half of the regiment could be relied upon to
stand fast during some form of religious disturbance which
might be upsetting either Hindus or Mohammedans. There is
no doubt that this proved successful up to the time of the
cessation of British rule in India.

The composition of the 8th Cavalry was undoubtedly a
good one in that these four sects were known to be of exception-
ally good fighting quality and that they were not likely to be
unduly aroused by religious upsets. But even the best and most
unlikely of people sometimes go wrong, as will be seen later.

The Hindu Rajputs probably rank as the first and highest
type of fighting soldier amongst the Hindus. They are particu-
larly fine-looking men of good physique, cheerful, resourceful,
reliable and good horsemen; it would have to be something
very serious indeed to upset their loyalty. The Jats, although
Hindus, are in almost complete contrast to the Rajputs. They
are not nearly so fine-looking and have not such good physique
but undoubtedly have more natural intelligence. They make
good soldiers and, although not outstanding horsemen, they
are better than some of their more distinguished brethren. One
of their big assets was that they were particularly good in all
special jobs such as orderly room clerks and quartermaster
stores personnel in all their many ramifications; farriers,
pioneers, signallers and armourers. Lucky indeed is the regiment
which has Jats included in its complement for this very reason.
So much for the Hindu Squadrons.

SILLADAR SYSTEM 89

We now come to the Mohammedans. C Squadron consisted
of Punjabi Mussulmen. The Punjabi is probably the best type of
fighting Mahommedan in India. They are fine-looking men
of magnificent physique, standing well around and over the
six-foot mark, madly keen on their profession of soldiering,
unquestionably loyal, good horsemen, although possibly a little
heavy-handed. They are thoroughly reliable, although they
can get upset if got at by unscrupulous religious fanatics. They
are fine men in tough circumstances and can stand any amount
of rough campaigning.

D Squadron consisted of the Pathans. These men, who
really come from the wild hillsides of the Himalayas, although
there are many in such stations as Peshawar and Rawal Pindi,
are without a doubt the finest soldiers of them all, providing, of
course, that they are well led. For sheer bravery they have no
equal, with the possible exception of the Gurkhas, but, being
more fanatical, their contempt of death makes them completely
fearless. They have the most fierce expression, are not particular
about their appearance, are not outstanding in physique and
have a queer sense of loyalty. They are loyal enough when they
are serving with their regiment but are quite capable of fighting
against the British when they go back home on leave to the
rugged hills of the Himalayas. When their leave was up they
would return to their regiment sometimes with a small flesh
wound and carry on with their soldiering as if nothing had
happened. If there was fighting somewhere around they had
to be in it!

This strange loyalty was at its best in relation to their
British officers. Here again it showed itself as being something
different. If they did not particularly like their British officer
their loyalty was to the regiment in which they served but if,
on the other hand, they liked and accepted their officer as one
of themselves, then they would follow him through the very
gates of hell itself. Throughout my whole life I have always
been considered tough, so it was hardly a surprise to hear from
the adjutant that I was to go to D Squadron with the Pathans.

From the very beginning we got on well together and in a
very short time I felt that a bond of mutual trust and under-

go INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

standing had grown up between us. This relationship came
about in rather peculiar circumstances which I will relate later.
I became very attached to the Pathans; they even went so far
as to perform a blood-curdling ceremony for my benefit to
initiate me into their tribe!

In the meantime I was learning more about the regiment.
The 8th Cavalry in comparison with other regiments did not
have a long active service record but it was an interesting
regiment for all that! It was one of the very last of the Indian
Cavalry regiments to finish with the old ‘Silladar’ system which
I shall explain later. It was the first of the cavalry regiments to
become Indianised and one of the first Indians to be granted
the King’s Commission was posted to the 8th. He was Nawab
Pratab Singh, a nephew of that well-known Indian prince and
celebrated England and Sussex cricketer, the late Prince Sahib
Bahadur Ranji Singh, more popularly known as ‘Ranji’. The
8th Cavalry, which later amalgamated with the 5th Cavalry
and became the present 3rd Cavalry, was one of the last
cavalry regiments to remain horsed before the final mechaniza-
tion of all cavalry regiments.

The ‘Silladar’ system to which I referred above was indeed
an amazing type of administration used by the old Indian
Cavalry regiments. It is difficult to realize that such a
mediaeval system existed within living memory. It worked in
the following way. The colonel commanding an Indian Cavalry
regiment received an annual grant of money from the Indian
Government in a lump sum of rupees and with this money he
became responsible to the Indian Government for a complete
regiment of cavalry. The sowar (soldier) paid for his horse and
equipment and on his discharge from the regiment, his assamt
as it was called, was valued and a lump sum was paid to the
soldier. His horse and equipment remained with the regiment.
The colonel was free to buy horses, saddlery and equipment,
fodder and grain for the horses and rations for his men. He
would decide from where in all India his men would be
recruited and he could actually decide how he would arm his
regiment. He would say whether they were to be Jancers or
light or heavy cavalry. The colonel had complete authority as

SILLADAR SYSTEM g!

to what kind of dress and equipment his officers and men would
wear. It may be interesting to mention that it was from the
Silladar system the world gained the famous Sam Browne
belt which became the symbol of authority in practically every
army throughout the world. It came about this way. A certain
Colonel Sam Browne who commanded an Indian Cavalry
regiment under the Silladar system (which later became known
as Sam Browne’s Cavalry) designed the belt and had his
regimental officers equipped with it. As we know, the belt still
bears his name. It was not, at first, adopted by all Indian
regiments but gradually its usefulness was appreciated and
later its smartness was possibly the deciding point which made
its popularity universal.

Under the Silladar system, the powers of the colonel
commanding a regiment were fabulous and immense. He could
decide on the type and colour of the horses on which he would
mount his men and could also decide where he would buy them.

This was generally done by a detail of British officers usually
consisting of an experienced senior officer, possibly a major,
although in those days a captain could be both very senior and
experienced, and one or two other officers, one being a very
junior officer gaining experience. Sometimes the party would
include an Indian officer if he was considered by his long
service and great experience to be a good judge of horses.
When notice was received of the arrival of the horse-transport
ships from Australia the party would proceed to the docks at
Calcutta where the horse auctions were held. It was an
amazing sight. These horses, which had been shipped from
Australia, were some of the wildest and most uncouth creatures
I have ever seen. Their hair and coats were long, ragged and
caked with mud and dirt as well as sometimes being in a very
indifferent condition according to whether the voyage had been
a rough one or not. They were just taken straight from the ship
and walked around in a quickly improvised sales ring looking
just about as bad as horses can look. From these motley hordes
we Officers had to try and pick out thirty to forty horses which
we considered might be suitable for training as cavalry horses.
It was a wonderful opportunity for a young officer to gain

92 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

first-hand experience in trying to pick out good horses. It
certainly taught me something which stood me in good stead
over the years.

Another feature of the Silladar system was that a regiment
was able to run its own grass farm. Here the regiment were
able to breed a certain number of its own horses. This was a
great experiment. Brood mares were brought out from England
and crossed with an Australian Waler stallion. The results
were country-bred foals which, in some cases, turned out very
well indeed. The strange thing about this breed was that
whereas the foals from this cross were quite good, the strain
quickly deteriorated if an attempt was made to breed again
from the country-breds. Their foals lacked bone and, for some
unaccountable reason, were very excitable animals and were
definitely not a success. I understand, however, that as time
has passed, the country-breds have gradually improved in class
and tone and today some really fine animals are being bred in
India.

The regiment’s farm was at Sagoda in the hills, and a very
pleasant place it was. To do duty by having to go up and
inspect it occasionally was one of those nice little jobs which
were much sought after! The responsiblity of running the
Silladar system was indeed great, but with the help of the
British officers, assisted by the Indian officers, the system worked
very well. Various committees were formed and it would be
their job to run a particular section and report to the command-
ing officer accordingly. There were in the regiment no less
than fourteen of these committees and they were called by
such titles as ‘Regimental Stores’, ‘Mr. Duffadar’s Account,’
‘Bazaar and Syce Mandi,’ ‘Regimental Account and Treasure
Chest,’ ‘Grass Farm’ and ‘Regimental Workshop’. They
usually consisted of one British officer and two Indian officers,
who always had an answer although not necessarily the right
one! My impression of these committees was that one was always
serving on some other officer’s committee because he was
away, and that the Indian officers of the committee were doing
their level best to pull the wool over the eyes of the substituting
officer to hide some deficiency!

SILLADAR SYSTEM 93

Probably the most important of these committees was that
concerned with the “Treasure Chest’ and I append one or two
written instructions concerning it:

2. The Chest will be opened only in the presence of the
whole Committee and the Regimental Mir Munshi;

3. The keys of the Treasure will be kept by the Ressaldar
Major;

4. On no account is any money to be issued except as
instructed. Chits will not be accepted.

There was, indeed, a lot to be said for the Silladar system
at that time, but the First World War quickly showed up its
fundamental weaknesses. These were, of course, the differences
in arms and equipment and the impossibility of interchange
from a general pool during war. It was quite impossible for
two regiments to draw from each other or from a central store
of any kind. Each regiment had, as it were, to carry all its own
spare parts.

Up to that time it was not considered that the Indian Army
would be called upon to fight in a big war outside India but,
with the coming of the First World War, the Silladar system
was outdated from the start and it was only those regiments
like the 8th Cavalry which did not see service overseas, that
found themselves still carrying on the system for some few years
after the war was over.

When the Silladar system finished in 1921, the Indian
Government took over all the tangible assets from the regiments.
This included the many funds accounted for by the various
committees which I previously mentioned.

It is interesting to note that a single cavalry regiment, such
as the 8th Cavalry, handed over to the Government a sum of
no less than eight lahks of rupees—a lahk being fifty thousand—
which represented in sterling a sum of twenty-five thousand
pounds!

The old-time Silladar regimental commanders had been
great men, some of them with a real flair for business who had
run their regiments on sound business lines. Strangely enough
many of these men were Irish, for the Indian Cavalry had

94 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

always been a happy hunting ground for these naturally keen
horsemen. It is not usual to associate soldiers with sound
business sense but from whatever part of the British Isles they
came they had undoubtedly built up, both efficiently and
financially, some fine regiments. Their records will live long
in the history of the Indian Cavalry.

I settled down very quickly to my new life as a junior
officer. J had to undergo special training such as riding school,
training of remounts, squadron drill under the adjutant or
squadron commander, animal management and language
classes in Urdu under the regimental Munchi. As the junior
officer I automatically became quartermaster and member of
several of the regimental committees. Life was very full and
it was some time before I was able to slow up and contemplate
what was happening around me.

8

Stampede

us the following story: Two years previously the regi-

ment had suffered the greatest shock in its long
history. There had been a mutiny which had resulted in a
number of British officers being killed. The Major was the
only officer then serving in the regiment who was there.

It was a tragic story out of keeping with the regiment’s
record of loyalty especially as at the time of the Indian mutiny
in 1857 the regiment had remained completely loyal through-
out that tragic period. They carried on with their work in
keeping order on the North West Frontier when the rest of
India and the Indian Army was in a turmoil. They had not
been on active service since the Afghan war of 1879.

During the South African War, although most of the British
officers of the regiment had managed to see active service
there, the regiment itself had not been out of India. When the
war of 1914 broke out it brought a great chance for cavalry
regiments, such as the 8th Cavalry, to see active service at long
last. It was not until the war in Mesopotamia was well under
way though that its chance came.

Unfortunately things did not turn out as might have been
expected.

Towards the end of 1916, when the war in Mesopotamia
was going badly, the colonel suddenly received orders to
prepare his regiment, then stationed at Jhansi, for service
abroad. At this time the Turks, who were Mohammedans, were
fighting the British in Mespot. Word had quickly gone around the
lines that the regiment was under orders to Mesopotamia. Two

95

() NE evening after dinner the Second-in-Command told

96 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

squadrons of the regiment were, of course, Mohammedan and
this would mean that they would be fighting against the Turkish
Mohammedans. For some little time past in India religious
feeling had been rising amongst the Mohammedans about
fighting their fellow brethren of the same religion. I think it
was generally under-estimated at the time just how strong this feel-
ing was. There is no doubt that the subject had been very much
discussed in the temples and was having an effect on the men

On this particular morning the colonel had called the regi-
ment on parade to tell them the news about going on active
service, and had expressed his pleasure at having the honour to
lead his regiment. The news was received in silence by the
Moslims and the senior officer of the Mohammedan squadrons
called on them to stand fast after the colonel had dismissed the
parade. ‘The Major who was in command of the Mohammedan
squadron, decided to speak to the men about their obvious
sullenness. He stated that he had heard rumours about their
religious difference, but did not believe that this applied to his
men. On the other hand, he added, if there were any men on
parade who, because of their religion, did not want to go on
service to Mesopotamia, would they now step forward. He had
hardly got the words out of his mouth when every single man
on parade immediately took one pace forward. One can imagine
the awful shock this must have been to a keen soldier and one
who had spent his life with the regiment. The story goes that
the major was so taken aback that he quickly became very
angry and slated the men for being cowards and hiding behind
their religion to avoid going on active service. We, who have
served with the Indian soldier, know that this is a grave charge
to make and, of course, it is completely untrue. There is no
soldier in the world whose love of active service is so keen as
that of the Indian, and especially the Mohammedan, personi-
fied by the Pathans and Punjabis who composed _ these
squadrons. The damage was done, however, and he dismissed
the parade with further strong words. Nothing more happened
that day and, except for a certain amount of discussion in the
mess that evening, the whole thing was treated as an unpleasant
incident.

SS ee

The author by Tom Barnard

Indian Cavalry ‘Sowars’.

British Officer 8th Cavalry

The author as a young British officer, Indian Cavalry

Mountain Battery in action

Mahsuds Tribesmen prisoners

Frontier Tribesmen

Typical Frontier
Terrain

The Flooded camp ‘the Tribesmens’ revenge’

or

Indian Officer
‘Probyns Horse’
(Afghan) Risaldar

The Governor Generals’
Bodyguard

British officers Indian Cavalry in full dress, (5th Cavalry, 23rd
Cavalry Frontier Force, 17th Cavalry, 26th King George’s Own

Light Cavalry, 11th King Edward’s Own Lancers Probyns Horse)

(sprempy [ouorT) Suryonssig

spaempy PUOTT Aq aunjoid ay} Wor 9UVIg OJOg UPIPUyT UY

British officers. Indian Cavalry Regiment

(paeureg woy, Aq Surmeiq) epovzoedg yensnun uy

STAMPEDE 97

Next morning the awful tragedy happened. The men were
on stables parade and, as was the custom, an Indian officer
was usually in charge until the arrival of the British officers
—the major in command of the squadron and a captain or
subaltern.

In a cavalry regiment, morning stables is just about the
busiest parade of the day. There are so many things to be done
in addition to grooming the horses. Sick or thin horses have to
be sorted out and attended to, grain and fodder has to be
inspected, damaged equipment must be investigated and the
cause discovered and, in general, the whole efficiency and
appearance of a regiment greatly depends on having a thorough
overhaul at morning stables.

On this occasion when the squadron commander entered the
lines accompanied by one of his subalterns, there appeared to be
no Indian officer in charge to call the men to attention. The
British subaltern, noting this, quickly gave the order ‘Stand to
your horses’. There was no response from the men and a certain
uneasiness and expectancy was apparent. Again the order was
given ‘Stand to your horses’. As there was no immediate
response the major, becoming angry, strode forward shouting
out, ‘What the hell is going on here? Stand to your horses!’

At that moment two men who were standing behind a stable
post armed with service rifles, raised them to their shoulders
and took aim. Then they fired and the major dropped, mortally
wounded. The subaltern, who was an athletic young man,
immediately dived at the men in a Rugby tackle. He brought
down one of them but before he could get the other one who was
still on his feet, the man swung at him with a rifle butt, catching
him full on the head as he Jay on the ground, killing him
instantly.

Whether all the men were concerned in this mutinous
behaviour is difficult to say but in a few minutes not a man was
to be seen in the lines. The British officers of the Hindu
squadrons acted at once. With the help of the Hindu Indian
officers they ordered the men of the Mohammedan squadron
to their barracks and, after having them disarmed, placed a
guard from the Hindu squadron over the lines.

G

98 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

In the meantime, the mutineers, of whom there seemed to
be only a few, had left the stable lines and completely run
amuck around the cantonment. Another British officer had
been shot and the men were now apparently making for the
colonel’s bungalow which was some distance from the lines.
On their way they met the station staff officer, who was not an
officer of the regiment, cycling towards his bungalow. He was
not aware, of course, that anything unusual was happening.
The mutineers, who were running up the road towards the
C.O.s bungalow, saw this officer turn into his drive and, before
the eyes of his wife who was actually on the veranda at the
time, fired their rifles at him, killing him instantly.

Even though things had happened so quickly, news travels
fast in India, and when the mutineers reached the colonel’s
bungalow, the colonel’s servant, who was a Mohammedan, told
the C.O. that there were badmash (bad men) outside and
implored him not to go on to the veranda. The colonel gently
pushed him aside and strode outside to see what the trouble was
about. The men were then coming up the drive carrying their
rifles at the ready but stopped short on seeing the colonel
standing on the veranda waiting for them.

After hesitating for a moment they raised their rifles to take
aim. The colonel quickly held up his hand and, speaking to
them in their own language, told them not to be foolish because
if they killed him there was no one to whom they could make
their complaints. This appeared to unsettle the men for a
moment and they lowered their rifles. By this time the colonel’s
servant had joined him on the veranda and was about to talk
to the men when the more excited mutineer of the two turned
quickly to the other and said, ‘Don’t let us listen to his soft
words. He will only deceive us—let us shoot!’ With that they
raised their rifles and fired. The colonel’s servant, a brave and
loyal man, threw himself in front of his colonel and received both
bullets, which killed him instantly, thereby saving the colonel’s
life. The men, not quite realizing what they had done, turned
and ran out of the drive. Calling the other servants to attend
to the dead man, the colonel quickly called for his horse,
mounted, and immediately rode out after the murderers. As

STAMPEDE 99

they heard the horse coming after them they turned round to
fire again but this time they were too late as the colonel, riding
hard with drawn sword, rode them down, running his sword
through them both. He then drew his revolver and shot them
dead.

In the meantime, strange things had been happening else-
where. The alarm had spread and the Indian officers of the
Hindu squadron had taken quick action to protect their own
British officers from the Mohammedans. They had shut them
up in the grain godowns and placed a guard over them until
they thought the immediate danger to their lives was over.
This, of course, was not in keeping with the British officers ideas
and one captain managed to break out. He immediately
decided to go for help to the British Gunners barracks, which
were about three miles away. Collecting about four Hindu
Indian officers, he galloped off to the British lines. Here a
certain amount of grim humour enters into the tragic story.

The news of the mutiny had spread quickly and the Gunners
had already been informed of the trouble. Indeed they were
actually preparing to come and see what assistance they could
give when they saw in the distance a small party of horsemen
galloping towards them. The Gunner officer in command
raised his field-glasses, and one can imagine his reading of the
situation when he observed a British officer riding hell for
leather across the plain and apparently being chased by a
number of Indian soldiers whom he could only distinguish by
their flowing turbans flying in the breeze.

It is easy to see how the misunderstanding arose. Not
unnaturally he at once came to the conclusion that the British
officer was being chased by the mutineers and promptly gave
orders to his men to open fire on the Indian officers. Unfortu-
nately for them, before the party could get near enough to
explain what was actually happening the Gunners had shot
and wounded two of the Indian officers, luckily not seriously.
The casualties of the episode were six British officers killed,
four of whom were in the regiment, two Indian officers wounded
and two mutineers killed.

The prompt action on the part of the colonel in killing the

100 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

ringleaders and the quick action of the Hindu Indian officers
undoubtedly saved the situation and soon brought the mutiny
under control. Meanwhile, the colonel ordered the whole
regiment to parade immediately. He had the dead mutineers
brought on to the ground and burnt in front of the parade. His
intention was to make an example by a show of fearless disci-
pline and determination and thereby put a stop to any further
trouble.

G.H.Q., however, took a completely different view, owing
to the war in Mesopotamia and the Dardanelles which was
going badly. This state of affairs was causing unrest among the
Mohammedans in India and such action as the Colonel’s was
more likely to do harm than good. It was thought that his action
at such a time was not warranted and was possibly too strong
under the circumstances. So, after thirty-three years with the
regiment, he was relieved of his command.

The fact that the mutiny spread no farther than the one
regiment speaks for itself. By his action the murderers were
killed at the time of their crime which is a just law understood
by most men. I sometimes wonder what would have happened
if these men had been taken alive and brought to trial. It would
have given time for civilian agitators, of which there were
plenty, to get to work at a critical time in India. Who knows
what the outcome would have been? It will be remembered
that the Great Indian Mutiny of 1857 started in a small way
and for possibly a less significant reason.

However, G.H.Q. later relented and the colonel was made
a brigadier and given the Secunderabad Brigade, where, in
the course of duty, I met him many times. He used to come over
and dine in the mess often and seldom missed coming to the
lines if there had been a new intake of remounts, as he was a
particularly fine judge of horses.

Strangely enough I bought his regimental kit which
included his sword which I still have in my possession.

Lieut.-Col. Heather took over the command of the 8th
Cavalry from him.

I had been with the regiment now for some months and had
settled down completely. I found life both exciting and exacting.

STAMPEDE IO!

The calls on British officers in an Indian Cavalry regiment
were many. There were various staff duties which had to be
filled, courses of instruction to be attended, and leave, both
local and overseas, so the number of officers actually with the
regiment was seldom little more than half strength. This resulted
in junior officers often finding themselves in temporary com-
mand of squadrons with responsibilities far in excess of officers
of equal rank in the British Cavalry.

Early one morning my squadron commander sent for me
just before parade.

‘Oh, Guest, I shan’t be coming on parade this morning as
I shall be doing accounts with the commanding officer.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I answered.

He continued, ‘I want you to take the squadron out on to
the plains and practise your squadron drill with a full squadron.’

“Yes, sir,’ I murmured.

I rather liked the idea of having the mounted squadron to
myself away from the barrack square with the eternal weapons
training and foot drill. I saluted smartly and was away before
the squadron commander could change his mind!

I crossed over to the horse lines where I was met by the
senior Indian officer of the squadron. He was a fine-looking
Mahommedan by the name of Mahomet Ali Khan, who had
been with the regiment for no less than thirty-one years. He
was one of those most loyal Indians of the best type who loved
the regiment and were very much the mainstay of the Indian
Army. He was a great cavalryman and knew everything about
soldiering and the regiment in general including its officers,
both British and Indian. He was a great help to me in my early
days as he must have been to all young British officers joining
the regiment.

I passed on the major’s orders and he quickly gave the com-
mand for the squadron to get on parade. It will be understood
that because of the heat of India our first parade was at six
o’clock in the morning which meant that the men would have
to be ready and on parade at five forty-five.

It was a fine crisp morning in January and the squadron
was on parade drawn up in four troops in line, looking grand,

102 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

They were dressed in light order and carried lances. This meant
that they wore breeches and long shirts with cummerbunds and
turbans and carried no arms, such as rifles or swords, but just
bare lances with no penonns flying.

I inspected the squadron and we moved off from the parade
ground, crossed the road on the outskirts of the lines and made
our way out into the country. We quickly reached the plain on
which we did all our mounted work and, as luck would have it,
there were no other squadrons of the regiment in the vicinity
doing training that morning. This meant that I had a very free
run of the countryside and would be able to carry out fast
mounted movements with no fear of interference by other
squadrons. This is a great factor as the trouble with mounted
drill done at the canter is that one covers the ground so rapidly
that it is only a matter of seconds before the horses have reached
some kind of boundary, such as large ‘nullars’, the jungle fringe,
water or some kind of unsuitable ground for the type of move-
ment one has in mind.

On this particular morning I was practising movement of
troops in echelon. This means that a squadron moves in line
with the left flank of the second troop just behind the right
flank of the leading troop and the left flank of the third troop
just behind the right flank of number two troop. It will be seen
that if the order is given ‘right wheel into line’ the whole
squadron half wheels into one straight line still moving forward
but inclining to the right. It is a grand movement, in fact the
best in the whole of the cavalry drill book. It is certainly the
most spectacular from an onlooker’s point of view and, of
course, is very effective in an actual attacking action.

The squadron was actually in echelon at the trot and
alongside a piece of jungle scrub which I was taking care to
avoid, when suddenly without warning, up popped a large
jackal on our right centre. It was just too much for me to miss
such a wonderful chance of giving out the right order for such
an affront. I whipped out my sword with a flourish and
shouted ‘right wheel into line—prepare to charge. Charge!’
and away I went after the jackal. The squadron had been
quick to see what was in my mind and had wheeled smartly

STAMPEDE 103

into line. Down went their lances and away we went in true
cavalry fashion.

All of a sudden there was a terrific yell of ‘Halt! Halt! and,
as I looked up, there, tearing down on us from the left flank,
were two men on horses galloping like mad across our front. I
gave one glance and to my horror recognized the colonel of the
regiment and the adjutant. I realized that I had been caught
out and knew at once that I was for it! The troops had been
equally quick to understand the position and had come smartly
to the halt in line immediately.

The colonel just rode over to me and gave me a terrific
dressing-down then and there and ordered me back to my
quarters immediately. He told the adjutant to order the senior
Indian officer to take the squadron back to the lines as it was
more or less the time for the parade to end.

I returned to my bungalow to await further orders from the
adjutant, but it was not until the following day that I was sent
for. In the meantime, I had to have all my meals sent over
from the mess and, of course, was not allowed out. By this time
I was beginning to think that this was the end of everything and
wondered how it would finish. However, on the following
morning I received a chit from the adjutant to be at the orderly
room to go before the colonel.

He was looking as black as thunder as J went in and once
again he blasted my head off. At last he finished and dismissed
me, and, as I went out of the door with my tail between my
legs, I heard him say in a quiet voice, ‘Pity you didn’t get him,
Guest.’ I dared not look round, but felt relieved and realized
the colonel was human after all!

Strangely enough this little episode did me far more good
than harm, for it had gone down with my Pathans in a remark-
able way. They had completely taken me to their hearts as a
sportsman and were full of sympathy for me because of the
awful wigging I had received from the colonel in front of
them.

Imagine my surprise when I was asked by the Subidah Ali
Khan to stay behind after stable parade one morning. The men
all clustered around me as one of them came forward and

104 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

presented me with a completely new set of Indian clothes,
complete with turban, as worn by the Pathans when off duty.
In a little speech, he said that the men had accepted me as one
of themselves and that from now on I was to consider myself a
Pathan.

I felt very touched and thanked them for their under-
standing, and, as I walked away, I could hear the word
‘shabash, shabash,’ on all sides. Strangely enough in all my
travels in India and talks with other British officers, I never
once came across another instance where the Pathans had
taken a British officer into their fold. What I do know is that
from then on I had the complete confidence of the men and
knew that they would follow me through the gates of hell itself
if I only gave the word. I never once, after that little ceremony,
remember seeing a sullen look on any face when I gave an
order, no matter how unpalatable it was.

It took me some little time to live down that unfortunate
episode as my squadron commander had also taken rather a
dim view of the way in which I had misused the squadron when
he was not there but, strangely enough, he, too, came to grief
a few weeks later as the following story will show.

One morning the squadron commander sent for me. ‘Oh,
Guest, I think it would be a good idea to take the squadron on
an all-night exercise while the weather is cool.’

“Yes, sir,’ I answered.

He went on. ‘I think Thursday night would be suitable as
this will give us time to get back on Friday to get cleaned up
for the week-end.’

‘Right, sir, I will see the Subadah and tell him to make the
bandabust,’ I answered.

The major nodded his head, and, as an afterthought, com-
mented, ‘Don’t forget to give the mess orders about our food.
I think dinner and breakfast will be enough.’

I saluted, went over to the lines and met the rissaldar and
gave him the necessary orders. I called in at the shutterkhana
(camel stables) and ordered a sowar and camel to report to
the officers’ mess. Then I gave the necessary orders to the mess
duffadar for sufficient food to be packed, together with bedding

STAMPEDE 105

rolls, and loaded on to the camel as two officers would be
out for dinner and breakfast. The camel sowar was to make his
way to the village and await the squadron’s arrival.

On the Thursday evening the squadron paraded in full
marching order, which meant that the sowars would be carrying
lances, rifles and swords. A number of mules were on parade
packed with sufficient fodder for the horses, rations for the
men and ground-sheets as it was to be a bivouac camp only.

The object of the exercise was to get the men away from
the lines to practise night picketing of horses. A certain amount
of night exercises, such as advance- and rear-guard work over
rough ground was contemplated. Our destination was a certain
village about eight miles away over some very rough country
which was studded with nullars and hillocks.

After a thorough inspection by the squadron commander,
we moved off from the parade ground just as the sun was going
down. This meant that it would be dark in less than half an
hour. The major ordered an advance-guard movement as soon
as we were clear of our lines and by the time this had got
under way darkness was upon us. It was hard and difficult
going as the nullars were steep and deep and it was not long
before we were in trouble with fallen horses and mules.

However, the exercise proceeded according to plan and
we eventually reached our destination with no more than the
few mishaps which such work would naturally entail. It was
between eight and nine o’clock at night when we stopped work
and the order was given to picket the horses. ‘This was carried
out in the following manner: two strong iron stakes would be
driven into the ground about twenty yards apart and a rope
firmly tied connecting them at not more than six or eight inches
from the ground. To this rope twelve horses would be tied by
their head stalls. A similar rope and stakes would run parallel
about one yard from their hind legs. There would be enough
play on the ropes to give the animal a little freedom of move-
ment. The horses were given their feed which was later than
usual and in a short time they had settled down and all! was
quiet. The men were now lighting small fires and cooking their
evening meal,

106 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

In the meantime the officers’ mess camel had been unloaded
a little distance away and a nice evening meal was laid out
on the ground for the squadron commander and myself. I was
just checking up to see if everything was in order when the
major came over, after having gone around the picketing lines
to inspect them and see that everything was correct and to his
liking.

“Well, Guest,’ he said as he threw himself on the ground.
‘I think that was a good evening’s work and now what about
a drink ?’ He called the kitmaghar who had prepared the meal
and was close at hand. ‘What about a whisky and soda?’ and
he added, ‘Faldt, jaldi!’? (Hurry, hurry). The servant came for-
ward with a tray on which was a bottle of whisky, two glasses
and a jug of water.

The major just gave it a glance and said, ‘I want soda not
water.’

The kitmaghar answered, ‘Sorry, sahib, no soda.’

That did it! The next moment I thought the world would
come to an end as the major blew up in wrath. He cursed and
swore at all and sundry for their incompetence—even I came
in for a share of it.

All that had happened was that the mess duffadah had
thought that the soda water would not stand up the shaking it
would get on the camel’s back and had decided not to pack it.
I tried to reason with him to this effect but it was no use. He
insisted that the camel should be sent right back to the mess at
once to get the soda. I pointed out that it would take the best
part of two hours for the camel to do the return journey but he
was in no mood to listen to reason and the sowar was ordered to
get back to the mess and pick up the soda water as quickly as
possible. Although we had come across country there was, in
fact, a reasonable bridle track which went more or less direct
and, with a good trotting camel, which this one was, I estimated
that he might do the return journey in about an hour and a
half; but that would be good going.

Off he went and after a time the squadron commander and
I settled down to our meal. It was an excellent one. It had been
well prepared and was nicely laid out on the ground with a

STAMPEDE 107

clean tablecloth and crockery. The kitmaghar had lighted a
fire and the food was served piping hot.

This made the major begin to relent a little, although the
mealtime itself had been rather strained owing to his ill-temper.
We had sat down rather late so it was now about half-past ten.
The orderlies had got our bed rolls down and we were resting
on them smoking. We had not yet turned in as I knew the
commander was bent on getting his whisky and soda that
night as never before.

Everything and everywhere was quiet, the fires were going
out one by one and the men were beginning to settle down for
the night. The horses sounded particularly quiet with only the
rustle of a shackle here and there and the steady sound of fodder
being munched. It was a lovely still Indian tropical night with
no moon, and although the stars gave out quite a light there
was still a kind of eerie darkness which I thought was a little
foreboding.

I was inwardly beginning to curse the damned soda water
as I was sleepy and wanted to turn in but I knew I dare not
until the camel returned. All of a sudden there was a crash,
yells, screams, commotion and pandemonium let loose. Before
one had time to wonder what was happening there was the
thunderous noise of galloping horses and the next second a
batch came past us with a rush. We both jumped up and were
very nearly knocked down as another crowd of horses flashed by.
My first thought was that we had been taken by surprise by
another squadron of the regiment which had decided to make
a secret attack on us in the nature of an exercise but as the
next batch of mules and horses went screaming past, I knew we
were in trouble and that it was a complete stampede of our
own horses. What had happened was that the wretched sowar
and his camel, in their hurry to get back with the ill-fated soda
water, had trotted right up to the picketed horse lines in the
dead of night.

As this strange and unfortunately shaped creature loomed
quietly out of the darkness it was just too much for the horses,
and being startled they had taken fright and bolted. It did not
seem to matter how well the horses and mules were picketed, the

108 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

stakes and ropes could not possibly stand up to the sudden
wrench of concerted effort which the fright had caused. It was
indeed a calamity.

The poor unfortunate animals stampeded in all directions
and in a few seconds the camp became an inferno. Horses and
mules were galloping about everywhere, some in bunches still
shackled together. Men were dashing all over the place, either
trying to catch them or avoiding an oncoming rush. It was,
without doubt, a frightening experience. It would have been
bad enough in daylight but at night it was just a nightmare.
After the shambles and excitement of the first few minutes, we
quickly got the men into organized parties under their Indian
officer and N.C.O. and proceeded to round up the animals.

The hunt went on all through the night as there were over
a hundred and fifty horses and mules to be accounted for. By
the dawn we had got the majority together but there were still
a number of them missing.

An Indian officer and a party of mounted men had
immediately been sent back to the regimental lines to take care
of any animals which had instinctively galloped back home.
There was, of course, the possibility of the loose horses creating
havoc back there. Luckily the party had arrived in time to
prevent further chaos.

At last we paraded the men and a very tired squadron led
by a very tired, dejected commander, wended their way back
to the regimental lines. We had accounted for all the animals
but four had to be destroyed, and nearly twenty were lame—
a rather grim night’s work.

Later that morning I saw the squadron commander coming
from the orderly room, looking more serious than usual, but,
by lunchtime, the C.O. had forgiven him and all was well.

9
Meeting Mahatma Gandhi

which was generally welcomedas an occasional break from
regimental duty. It was a physical training course which
was to be held in Poona. I handed over my numerous duties to
another officer, collected my warrants and left on the night train.

On the journey which was to take a few days, I had an
interesting experience. When the train pulled into the station
of Sholapur there was a large excited crowd on the platform.
I sent my bearer to inquire what it was all about. It did not
take him long to find out and the news was that Mahatma
Gandhi was going to board our train on his way to Poona. The
great gathering consisted of his followers who had come to see
him off. I was extremely interested to see this extraordinary
little man who was such a thorn in the flesh of the British
Government and who inspired such amazing devotion amongst
Indians of all castes and creeds from the very highest to the
lowest, and in particular among the poor and outcasts.

I looked from the window of my compartment and there
stood this small skeleton of a man accompanied by his ever-
faithful disciple of those days, the Englishwoman, Miss Slade.
The daughter of a British naval officer, she was undoubtedly
the first European to believe and understand the greatness of
this man.

She called for silence and their idol addressed them for a
few minutes. The stillness as he spoke was intense, but as soon
as he had finished the scene changed to one of great excitement.
He was acclaimed on all sides with a devotion filled with
admiration and emotion.

T HAT same week I was due to attend a course of instruction

109

IIo INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

A little later he took his place on the train and we steamed
slowly out of the station. My bearer informed me that the
Mahatma was on his way to Poona which was about a hundred
and fifty miles farther on. The train stopped at a halt later
and I decided to go along and ask Miss Slade if Mahatma
Gandhi would let me travel a little way with him in his com-
partment.

He said he would be pleased for me to do so, and I was able
to talk with him for about an hour as the train continued on
its journey. It was not long before I fell under his spell. I was
terribly impressed by his simple saint-like humility, his
undoubted wonderful courage and his almost fierce inward
determination. He talked about the time he spent in England
as a young student; about his work in the Boer War and about
Christianity; but the aim which appeared to me to be upper-
most in his mind at that time was to try to heal the bitter
antagonism which existed between the Hindus and the
Muslims. He thought there was little hope for the future of
India while this terrible gulf continued.

Our conversation during the short time I was with him
left me with an extraordinary impression. In some peculiar
manner I had a feeling that he was basing his actual mode of
life on that of Christ, while at the same time remaining faithful
to his own Hindu religion. His defence of the untouchables—
the lowest caste of the Hindus—was, without doubt, his bravest
and most successful work, for the simple reason that there were
so many of them in the vast masses of India. It was easy to
understand why the millions of poor and oppressed people
found a new hope and comfort in his inspired leadership. He
was very outspoken in his criticisms of Hindu customs and
beliefs which he considered harmful; in particular he men-
tioned the Hindu child marriages, having himself been married
at the age of thirteen.

I returned to my compartment a little later and the memory
of my talk with that devout little man has remained with me
throughout my life. When the train reached Poona there was
an enormous crowd waiting to greet him. They were so
excited and demonstrative that I thought it safer to pull down

MEETING MAHATMA GANDHI Ill

the blinds of my carriage and so escape from any undue
attention from the mob.

All my life I have followed the life of Mahatma Gandhi
with considerable interest. When the terrible riots broke out
between Hindus and Muslims there was no doubt about his
deep concern over those tragic events. His declaration that he
would ‘Fast unto Death’ was believed by all and affected
Hindus and Muslims so much that, in many instances, the
rioting ceased.

He had used this same threat against the British Govern-
ment for political purposes from time to time and, although
there were some who doubted the seriousness of his intentions,
I was sure that it was no idle threat. I remember so well the
time during one of his fasts when it was reported that he was
actually dying and the grave concern it caused as to what
would be the outcome should this tragedy occur. He was in
prison for political offences and the implications of his possible
death had everyone considerably worried.

Years later, in 1948, when the news of his tragic assassination
by a religious fanatic was flashed around the world, I was as
shocked as if it had been that of a personal friend but thought
at the time how fortunate it was that it had happened after
the British had left India. I have always been of the opinion that
as his death recedes with the passing of the years, his name will
be added to those of the great reformers of mankind. I will even
predict that because of his ethereality the Hindu religion will, in
time, come under his tremendous influence. By his teachings,
together with his wonderful example of simple, frugal living,
the Hindu religion may become more definable and intelligible.
This would undoubtedly lead to a better understanding by its
followers and by people of other creeds.

It is difficult to write about India without getting involved
in the subject of religion as it is unquestionably the most
religious country in the world. Anyone who has visited India,
if only for a short period, cannot avoid observing how great a
part it plays in the everyday lives of the people. The most
important religion is Hinduism with its infinite variety of sects.
It is followed by no less than two hundred and fifty million

IIT2 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

people. The Muslims account for another hundred millions
and there are fifty million adherents of other religious bodies,
such as Parsees, Buddhists, Jews and Christians.

Hinduism is one of the most sinister forms of worship. It is
difficult to define but can perhaps be likened to some obnoxious
weed as it seems to entangle every cult or religious thought
with which it comes into contact. Into the fanatical extremes
of the hundreds of different sects every known human failing
or vice seems to have found its way. There is always an excuse
there to cover up any transgression and most religious thoughts
and beliefs seem to have become involved in its mesh.

Studying this fantastic conglomeration of idol worship, it
dawned on me why the Christian religion had not met with the
fierce opposition which might have been expected from its
history. The startling revelation was that Hinduism had a place
for the Christian religion within its tangled stems. It gradually
became absorbed and easily fitted into the rigid laws of the
caste system.

The distorted and grotesque figure of the Hindu god Shiva
—the Destroyer—with its five or seven arms outstretched, seems
to suggest that they are reaching out to clasp at anything which
might come under its evil influence. That the Christian
religion in India has fallen under its spell there can be little
doubt. This is easily seen when one notes the striking resem-
blance between the Christian churches and the Hindu temples
of southern India. One has only to look inside these churches
used by the Indian Christians to observe it. The entire interior
of the church will be a mass of highly-coloured decorations
with tawdry statues of saints and images of the Virgin in
profusion. Lighted candles will be everywhere in their hundreds
and the church will be lit up in the most fantastic manner. The
floors will be of polished, coloured stone and there will be
absolutely no furniture such as chairs or seats of any descrip-
tion. The Indian congregation crowd together in a perpetual
kneeling position, prostrating themselves before the various
statues, whether there is a service going on at the time or not.
There is very little difference between these churches and the
Hindu Ganesh temples which are not far away. Perhaps the

MEETING MAHATMA GANDHI 113

only difference is the hideous idol of the half-man half-elephant
carved from a large black shining stone, which is on the altar
surrounded by the tawdry trappings which are similar to those
in the churches.

The Portuguese Christian priests with their long flowing
black beards fit well into this fantastic picture and one comes
away with the impression that it is just another cult or sect of
the ever-absorbing Hinduism.

Thus, it can be easily understood how the low caste Indian
welcomed the coming of a sect which gave him an uplift in
the hide-bound caste system of Hinduism, so long as it con-
formed to the temples from which he was barred. It catered for
the Indian love of tinsel and statues.

If, in spite of this, the teachings of Christianity can pene-
trate this jungle of spiritual undergrowth then I would regard
it as just another miracle. It gives food for thought to think
what will happen to the Christian Church in India during the
years to come, now that the British influence is no more.

The course in Poona was indeed a strenuous one for not
only did we learn how to organize physical training within the
regiment but we had to undergo a complete course ourselves.
Once again my natural ability at games and athletics stood me
in good stead and I was able to hold my own in most subjects

It was during this course that the great influenza epidemic
struck the world and India in particular. During its worst
period millions of people died and Poona suffered as badly as
anywhere. For days and days on end a steady stream of funerals
passed on their way to the burning ghats which were not very
far from our lines. At night we could see the flames from the
pyres as they lighted up the night sky and the stench from the
burning flesh became nauseating. Nothing could be done
about it, though, and we had to bear it as best we could.

It was during this epidemic that a European girl of doubtful
fame died in Bombay and her funeral was one of the largest
seen in that celebrated city for many years. She was a lady of
easy virtue but such was her charm and beauty that she was
known throughout India and wreaths poured in from all over
the country. She was mourned as no other girl of similar

It4 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

occupation had been before or was likely to be again. She was a
Hungarian known by the name of Sonia and lived in Grant
Road. She was very much in demand because of her amazing
kindness and understanding. It was said that the funeral
procession was miles long and she was mourned by all Bombay.

The physical training course of instruction was held at a
time which would include as much of the cool weather as
possible. Just before the end of the course the famous Royal
Connaught Boat Club, which was situated at Kirkee just out-
side Poona, held a regatta. The clubhouse stood on a high bank
surrounded by lovely lawns which swept down to the water-
side. From them a commanding view of the river could be seen.
As soon as the notice of the regatta was published, the P.T.
School immediately went into special training and entered
teams for every event with great enthusiasm.

More because of our physical fitness than our waterman-
ship, we won everything, as might be expected. I took part in
several events and was lucky enough to win the single sculls so
had a very successful day. I shall always remember the crowd
of us sitting around in long chairs on those lovely lawns in the
cool of an Indian evening with a long drink by our side. It
was quite unforgettable.

The most eventful evening of the course was the night of
our farewell dance at the Poona Gymkhana Club. It was held
in fancy dress and four of us decided to go dressed in long black
hooded gowns. These covered the whole body, including the
face, except for eye-holes in the hood to see through.

On the back of each gown was sewn a word in large white
lettering and when we paraded in correct order it read, “The
Black Hand Gang’. Our original intention was that we should
be two girls and two fellows, but, ladies being scarce, we had
to be content with one. The party of four consisted of Kerr,
Billingham and myself as the three men, and a young married
woman whose husband was not in the station at that time, as
the fourth. Her name was Doris and it was agreed that as
Billingham had quite slim ankles he should wear ladies’ shoes
and stockings and play the part of a girl. To all intents and
purposes when we lined up in our black uniform gowns it

MEETING MAHATMA GANDHI 115

looked as if we were two men and two women, as only the
feet and ankles could be seen.

We were all set for a good party, in high spirits and full of
fun, but the final result was disastrous. We made a point of
arriving a little late just to cause an element of excitement and
surprise. This move succeeded as immediately we arrived in
a gang everyone became mystified as to who we actually were.
The idea of getting Billingham to wear ladies shoes completed
the deception because most of the women who frequented the
club could be accounted for. Our plan was to remain silent
and refuse to talk except in monosyllables until the customary
hour of midnight. I need hardly add that we had been most
careful to keep our plan a secret before the dance. We danced
only with each other and resisted offers from the other
revellers.

Things went well and the party raged with gaiety until
around midnight. The dance was at its height and champagne
was flowing and having its usual exhilarating effect. The gala
was at its merriest. The four of us had gone into the bar, still
trying to keep up the deception, when suddenly one of the
fellows at the P.T. School who was, perhaps, a little merrier
than most, yelled out that he knew who we were, that there
were no women amongst us and we were four chaps from the
P.T. course. ‘Let’s debag them and prove it!’ Before we could do
a thing, the crowd in the bar was upon us and the damage
was done. We quickly realized the danger and, grabbing hold
of Doris, we tried to make a bolt for the door, at the same time
yelling out who we were with the object of stopping them from
doing something silly.

It was no good, however, as the crowd in the bar had
entered into the spirit of the thing, and in a flash they were
upon us! We were now really scared because of the female in
the party and we three men fought like demons. We knocked
out people right and left, with the result that it developed into
a free for all. However, we were hopelessly outnumbered and
were soon overpowered and quickly debagged. The gowns
were torn off our backs and we were in what little under-
clothing we had, including poor Doris, who was now thoroughly

116 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

frightened and upset. As she was thought to be a man she had
come in for the same rough treatment and was now in her
scanty undies!

In a moment someone realized what had happened and
everybody was embarrassed. The fighting stopped as quickly
as it had begun and the bar cleared like lightning. We threw a
gown around Doris and made a hurried exit before there was
any further trouble. It certainly was a dramatic end to a hectic
party! It was as well for everyone concerned that the P.T.
course ended the next day and people returned to their respec-
tive stations; thus a veil was drawn over an unfortunate
episode.

On returning to the regiment I found that there had been a
number of changes among the British officers. This is essentially
a part of life in the Indian Cavalry. A lot can happen in a
comparatively short time in India and I had been away for a
few months. The C.O. had gone on leave and the second in
command had taken over the regiment. One of the squadron
commanders had been appointed to Staff and two young
subalterns, one of them an Indian, had joined the regiment
which moved me farther up the ladder. One took over my job
as Q.M. and I went as second in command to a squadron,
which was very gratifying. One or two other officers had come
back from leave and others had gone so the mess had
changed quite a bit. The one British officer who seemed to stay
put longer than most was the adjutant who was a very impor-
tant person, as the regiment more or less revolved around him
and was in his safe keeping. On the other hand, the real
stability of an Indian Cavalry regiment undoubtedly lay in the
reliable hands of the senior Indian officers. These wonderful
men with their incredible periods of long service—many of
them serving for thirty years or more—were the mainstay of
any regiment. With their great experience they were always
ready to advise and guide any young British officer through the
many problems which confronted him from time to time.

However, notwithstanding the various changes, the work of
the regiment went smoothly along. A large draft of new
remounts had recently arrived from Calcutta and these were

MEETING MAHATMA GANDHI 117

creating the usual amount of excited interest. The squadron
commanders took it in turns to make their selection according
to their seniority. For instance, if there were forty new remounts
there would be say ten for each of the four squadrons. Within
a day or two of their arrival the horses would be walked round
on the parade ground or in the riding school and the four
squadron commanders, in consultation with their own British
and Indian officers, would make their choice of each animal in
turn. That is to say that B squadron commander, being the
senior, would pick out one remount, then D squadron com-
mander, being the next senior, would make his choice and so on
until each squadron had reached their quota. The discussions,
opinions and arguments as to which should be the choice each
time can well be imagined, but it was all terribly interesting
especially to the young British officer, and the selection of these
remounts was an education in itself to a young horseman. In
the first place, the remounts were very young and rough and
it was always a difficult task to pick out an animal which was
likely to make either a charger or a polo pony and, of course,
most officers were looking more from the polo pony point of
view! Most interesting of all was to see how the various
selections later turned out, especially during the first six months
when they were undergoing schooling for the different purposes
for which they had been allotted.

Io

Pigsticking and Polo

in Delhi which was to last six weeks. I was always pleased

to go on such courses as I considered it a good thing to
meet officers of other regiments of both cavalry and infantry
and exchange ideas about everything in general.

I had never been to Delhi before and was looking forward
to seeing the Old City and the New, which was very much in
the news at that time. I was lucky enough to be given a special
letter of introduction from a local Gunner friend of mine to
another Gunner named Dallas, who was stationed in Delhi. I
was particularly interested in him as I heard that he was a very
keen pigsticker and was, in fact, one of the keenest members of
the Delhi Tent Club. I was hoping to get initiated into the
sport about which I had heard so much; but so far, because of
being stationed in southern India, I had not had a chance of
taking part in it.

The journey from Secunderabad to Delhi by train is a
long one; it takes three or four days and can only be done in
that time by going to Bombay and catching the mail train from
there. Long distance train travelling in India is always an event
and full of incident. This particular journey proved to be no
exception. On the way to Bombay I had to change in the middle
of the night, as always seemed usual! Of course, the station
was one of those outlandish places in which India abounds. It
was about three o’clock in the morning and completely deserted.
The connecting train steamed in and, as there was no corridor,
my bearer made for the nearest first-class compartments, which

118

A FEW weeks later I attended another course of instruction

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 119g

are always shut, with all blinds drawn, and_ invariably
locked. He found one which was unlocked, opened it and
quickly pushed my luggage in. Then he called to me and, as
soon as I had got in, he disappeared to his part of the train.

In consideration for the other passengers I did not turn on
the lights. I could see that three berths were occupied with
their curtains drawn but that the fourth—a top one—was
empty. It did not take me a minute to slip off my clothes as one
wears as little as possible in India. On went my pyjamas and,
with one high step, I was in bed. I was very pleased with
myself for not having disturbed the other passengers and,
drawing my curtain I had settled down to sleep in a very short
time as I was extremely tired.

The next thing I remember was the sound of strange voices
which gave me quite a shock. I drew my curtain and there,
sure enough, my worst fears were realized—three young women
were right in the middle of dressing themselves! I would have
drawn back but it was too late, as the two facing me let out
yells of distress. Luckily they were all Europeans, two army
wives and one civilian, the wife of a young business man from
Madras.

After the first embarrassment we managed to laugh it off
but I did not think it quite so funny when I heard that all three
husbands were on the train in another compartment!

When the train stopped and we got out for breakfast I
received a rough look from the husbands, two majors and a
young civilian, when they came along to collect their wives,
especially when they pointed out to me that the compartment
was very clearly marked on the outside ‘Females Only’. The
two majors were both in British infantry regiments and, as !
was in cavalry uniform, it took a little while for the air to clear,
the reputation of young cavalry bachelors with the fair sex,
especially married ones, being considered to be from bad to
damned bad, and I suppose I looked no exception to the rule!

However, after my rather feeble explanation we gradually
laughed it off, had a jolly breakfast and travelled together
during the day for the remainder of the journey.

I duly arrived in Delhi without further incident of any

120 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

note and reported to the camp where the course was being
held. This was a little way outside the city on the road to the
famous Valley of the Tombs.

After a few days, by which time I had settled down to the
routine of the school of instruction, I decided to look up my
friend. The gunners were stationed in the Old Delhi Fort right
in the centre of the town, which is well remembered because of
its part in the Indian Mutiny. I easily contacted Dallas and he
invited me to their guest night, which was the following
evening. As was usual on such an occasion, I was first introduced
to everyone in the ante-room.

We went in to dinner and it soon became obvious that the
sport which interested the great majority of the officers present,
both senior and junior, was pigsticking. Polo was almost
unheard of in this particular mess. The conversation was all
pigsticking and I soon became enthralled with the description
and stories of the sport. It appeared that the Delhi Tent Club,
which is one of the oldest pigsticking clubs in India, held their
meetings every week-end.

By the time dinner was over I had received an invitation
to join them and go out the following Saturday and Sunday,
which I readily agreed to do. The arrangement was that a
number of us would go out on the Saturday afternoon and
camp out that night. Our job was to get things ready for the
big day’s sport on the Sunday. We would decide which
country was to be hunted, pitch the camp, meet the shikaris
and organize the beaters.

On Saturday I went to the Old Fort and found the party
waiting to go. There was Dallas, who appeared to be the leader,
and three other gunner officers. We were to go out and make
the complete bunderbus for the other members of the Tent
Club who would be coming out the first thing in the morning.

I was given my mounts for the week-end. They were two
very useful-looking Australian Walers, standing about fifteen
hands. They were troop horses reputed to be trained in the art
of pigsticking and were usually hunted by an officer who was
away on leave. They were both good weight-carrying animals,
not very fast to look at, but I was assured they were sure-footed

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 121

which appeared to me to be more important for my first outing
with a tent club.

Being so far away from my own station I considered
myself lucky to get mounted at all and I was very grateful to
my host. Everyone present was taking two horses. We each
packed our baggage on one and rode the other, taking the
spare on a rein. Two gunner orderlies carried our lances and
equipment. A sowar and his camel packed with tents and food
and a mess servant made up the party.

We moved off and rode out of Delhi towards the Jumna
River on the south side; entering the dried-up river-bed and
continuing along its rough surface for a few miles. Dallas soon
called a halt at an ideal spot. This would be our camp and
the meeting place for the club on the following morning. The
camping ground was a delightful piece of high, flat ground
shaded by a group of trees with a nice little stream flowing
freely below. We could see a long way over some good open
scrub country and up and down the river-bed which was much
overgrown with grass and ghow, and, as I had noticed on the
ride out, very rough and loose underfoot. I realized at once
how much depended on a good sure-footed horse. It was not
long before we had the tents up and hoisted the Tent Club’s
flag which could be seen for miles.

By this time the shikaris had arrived and were in earnest
conversation with Dallas, giving him all the information he
wanted for passing on to the honorary secretary who had said
he would be out later that evening or first thing in the morning.
The shikaris had brought the head beater and, as we expected
a big field the following day, it was arranged that there would
be at least forty beaters.

Time was now getting on. We had picketed our horses,
sent the camel back as he would be needed for bringing out
food for lunch on the following day, and most of the bandobast
had been fixed up regarding beaters. As it was the end of
January the evenings were still cool and it was pleasant as we
sat round and had our evening meal.

A little later the honorary secretary turned up and straight
away plunged into details with Dallas while we listened. They

122 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

discussed where the various beats would be positioned, which
cover should be beaten and from which direction, who was
expected out and how the heats should be made up. It was
decided to divide the experienced hunters with the novices
and altogether I found the conversation very enlightening and
entertaining. After everything had been discussed we decided
to turn in fairly early as we had a big day in front of us.

We were up early next morning and as we were having
breakfast the members began to roll up in their twos and
threes. Ten turned up, making fifteen altogether. We were
quickly organized and divided into heats of three fours and one
of three. It was decided that as I had never been out before I
should join the most experienced heat, follow them without a
spear and keep in the rear. This I was pleased to do as I wanted
to see how things were done. My heat consisted of two very
experienced hog hunters, one being the honorary secretary, a
man named Brand of the I.C.S. who had hunted the country
and knew every inch of it for he had been with the club for
fourteen years. He was a first-class pigsticker and I was very
lucky to be in his heat. There was also a Major Scott, a gunner,
who was, again, very experienced and, of course, there was my
friend and host, Charles Dallas, who was as keen as mustard
and who was considered one of the up-and-coming hunters.
As he was responsible for me he said he would like to be around
to see that I did not get into trouble and also to keep an eye
on his kit as practically everything I had borrowed was his!

The line of heats was strung across the wide river-bed
facing south, with the domes of Delhi away in the distance
behind us. It was decided that the beaters would beat on a line
running north-east to south-west and leave the thicker jungle
far over to the east side of the river. If the plan worked out well,
it would mean that the pig would break cover and cross the
open scrub country in an effort to get to the jungle.

My heat was No. 1 and left of the line. The idea was that
with the experience of Brand and Scott they would head off
any game going away on the left of the beaters so that the pig
would move across the line of heats to the right. The scheme
had been well thought out and, in fact, it worked well. Our heat

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 123

was standing quietly under a shady tree facing slightly south-
east.

Presently we heard the beaters coming along with all the
noise and hullaballoo that forty men could make. They were
strung out in a good long line but every now and then they
closed in as the grass and ghow got thicker. We were soon
rewarded as a good thirty-two-inch grey boar suddenly
appeared about a hundred yards ahead and making for the
scrub country. With a yell of ‘Ride’ from Brand, away we went
hell for leather. I quite forgot all my instructions in the excite-
ment and was going like the wind when Major Scott yelled at
me to get back and reminded me that I was not armed with a
lance. I, of course, eased my horse a little, much to its annoy-
ance, and tacked on at the rear of the heat. Brand had easily
gone into the lead and was making for the pig, going like hell.
Charles Dallas was riding second spear and yelling like mad,
Major Scott was a little way behind as third spear and I was
riding a good fourth. I was very thrilled indeed with my first
chase and sight of pig. The big boar had got away to a wonder-
ful start and had cleared the rough undergrowth of the river-
bed before us and was going flat out across the scrub country
before we could get clear of the long grass. However, we were
all up and the boar was giving us a marvellous run. Brand was
now getting near him and from the distance I thought he was
going to spear but the pig made a wonderful jink to the right
before Brand could turn and Charles was riding too close to
take advantage of it. Major Scott, who was an old hand, was
Just at the right distance and, with a quick turn he was up
alongside the pig with a yell and away they went like fury. I
now realized my danger without a lance and quickly dropped
back to give the others a chance of getting into position
again.

Scott was now going really well and the pig was beginning
to tire. With a squeal and a grunt the huge boar swung round
towards the rider and the horse, but Scott was ready and ran
his lance right in between the shoulders. The pig seemed to
stop in its tracks and before it could move again Brand and
Dallas had finished him off. Everyone was pleased as it had

124 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

been quite a show piece of work and I was lucky to see such a
hunt on my very first time out.

As we stood around waiting for the shikaris to come up
we saw one of the other heats going like mad some way over to
our right and then the third heat killed a boar about a quarter
of a mile away. Altogether six boars were killed and we returned
to our camp for a well-earned lunch after an eventful morning.

We were out again soon after lunch and three more boars
were killed, making a day’s bag of nine, a very satisfactory
weck-end’s sport. It had been a grand initiation and I was now
very keen and became a temporary member of the Tent Club
for the remainder of my stay in Delhi.

The best and most thrilling hunt, and one which I will
always remember, took place a few weeks later. I had quite
settled down as one of the keen and regular followers of the
sport. On this particular morning I was in a heat of three and
was, of course, carrying a spear this time. The others in the heat
were Mr. Brand of the I.C.S. and a young gunner subaltern
named Lawrence Speed, and naturally known as ‘Jaldi’ after
the Indian word meaning ‘Quickly’. He was not a regular
follower but had been out a number of times.

Our heat was standing under cover in some rough grassy
country where it was a little difficult to get a really good view.
However, a good sized boar broke cover and as the order ‘Ride’
was yelled, young Speed was off like a shot from a gun and beat
Brand to it. I got the impression that our I.C.S. friend was being
kind. The going was really bad as the long grass and ghow were
all around us. The boar was bounding along up and down as
if looking to see what was going on. We had just got clear of
the river-bed when things happened with startling rapidity.
Young Speed was right up alongside the boar with the beast
on his offside and was about to spear when the animal jinked
across his front over to his near side. In his enthusiasm and not
stopping to think, Speed swung his spear across and foolishly
made a jab at the pig on the near side. He just touched when
the pig jinked again in front of his horse. The obvious happened
and the horse came down and Speed was unseated. He lost
his spear which luckily did no damage to any of the heat who

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 125

were following up behind. The boar, which was now in a
tearing rage, turned again and, seeing his enemy lying on the
ground, charged at him full tilt with his head down. It looked
as if Speed was in for a really nasty mauling but for the nerve
and experience of Mr. Brand which showed up to its best
advantage. With a quick movement of his pony, his head and
lance well down, he rode between the man on the ground and
the charging and infuriated pig who were separated by not
more than six to eight feet. His lance went right into the great
chest of the boar, killing him instantly. I followed up only a
few yards behind and got my spear well home just to make sure.

Jaldi Speed picked himself up none the worse for his fall
but definitely shaken by the narrow squeak he had had. Brand
just laughed it off by saying, “That was a near one!’ but we all
knew it had been a superb piece of riding and everyone was full
of the incident when we got back to the club tent, as most of
the party had watched from a distance including the beaters.
None of them, however, had had my view of the episode and
quite realized how close we had been to a tragedy.

During those weeks with the Delhi Tent Club I learnt a
lot, not only about pigsticking, but about riding in general
which stood me in good stead for my years in India. Perhaps
one of the most important things was how to ride a horse flat
out on a loose rein when the going was really difficult. I think
this particular course of instruction was the most enjoyable I
ever attended!

When I reported back to the regiment and resumed my
normal duties I found that not only had my riding improved
but that my polo had made a big leap forward, as the regiment
found out to its cost. The result was that one of the most
outstanding games of polo which stands out in my memory
took place just after my return. It happened this way. When I
arrived back in Secunderabad I called in at the club before
going back to the mess. I found the place full and, after greeting
one or two people, asked about the station news. It appeared
that there was a certain air of excitement as the annual station
polo tournament was due to take place the following week. The
size of this tournament depended on how full the station was

126 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

and on this occasion it was pretty full as the brigade was right
up to strength.

In this tournament teams came from all over southern
India and included the private teams of the Maharajahs and
also the teams of some of the Imperial Service troops such as
Mysore and Hyderabad. Secunderabad, being the largest
cavalry station in southern India, contained a complete cavalry
brigade. This included three Indian cavalry regiments, one
British cavalry regiment and one battery of Royal Horse
gunners. Added to this was a complete infantry brigade and all
the supporting services which such a contingent of troops
entailed. In this particular tournament there were no less than
twelve teams, which is quite a number for any station.

The regiment had entered a team but, as I had been away
on the course of instruction, I was not included. I was disap-
pointed, of course, but the others in the team had been able to
put in some good practise together and a new young subaltern
had been given a chance to win his spurs.

The following evening I walked into the Secunderabad
Gymkhana Club and, quite by chance, met Major Shah Mirza
Beg of the Hyderabad Lancers. He was, at that time, one of
the best polo players in all India and would certainly be
reckoned in the first six. In other words, should there have been
an occasion to pick a polo team to represent India he would in
all probability have been in it.

I greeted him, ‘Hello, Shah, it’s not often we see you in the
club. How are you? Have a drink?’

‘Thank you, I am well,’ he answered and added, ‘yes, I
will have a chota peg.’

I called the kitmagah and ordered two whiskies and sodas.
We took two chairs by a table on the veranda and sat down.

‘Well, Freddie,’ he said, ‘I suppose you are looking forward
to the polo tournament ?”

‘Yes, Shah, I am, but, unfortunately, I’m not playing.’

He turned to me quickly. ‘Not playing?’ he queried. ‘But
surely they can’t afford to leave you out.’ He smiled.

‘I’m afraid they can and have, Shah. You see, I have been
away on a course and am just a little out of practice. They

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 127

are giving young Megson a chance. He isas keenas mustard and
I suppose it is only fair.’

He nodded his head, but said nothing.

‘What about you, Shah, are you in form? I shall be looking
forward to watching you play.’

He again turned in his chair and looked at me and said
with a wry smile, ‘I can see you have been away, Freddie, as
you are behind with the news. No,’ he continued, ‘I am not
playing. My brother Kardir is not well and Green is away so
we are unable to raise a team.’

It was my turn to sit up in my chair. ‘Well, I’m damned,
Shah. I hadn’t heard that news,’ I exclaimed. ‘Just fancy a
polo tournament right under our very noses and neither you
nor I playing. This is really nonsense,’ and then, as an after-
thought, ‘can’t we do something about it ?’

Excitedly we both jumped up, and it was obvious that the
same thought had come into both our minds.

‘What about raising our own scratch side?’ I said. I could
see by his face that he had already fallen in with the idea.

‘Of course, Freddie,’ he said. ‘I was just about to suggest
the same thing. Can we find two others to make up the team?’

‘Leave it to me, Shah, I will find two somehow. Come on,
let’s have another drink and get down to details.” We were
both as excited as a couple of kids. Two more drinks were
brought out and we toasted one another.

‘Here’s to the scratch side, Shah. What shall we call our-
selves? Any ideas?’

‘That’s easy, Freddie, the name’s right here—the Gymkhana
Club side,’ and he grinned as he said it.

‘Of course, that’s quick of you.’ I raised my glass. ‘Here’s
to the Gymkhana. Now look,’ I said, ‘don’t let us say anything
to anyone about this and we will keep it dark until the day. I
will pop in the entry at once with four blank names and tell
the secretary I will let him have them later. I will let you know
as soon as I have got the other two players. In the meantime,
Shah, a little practice!’ I said with a grin.

He laughed. ‘Yes—for both of us!’

We finished our drinks, got up and went our respective ways.

128 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

The thought of playing in a side with Shah was very exciting
indeed, but when I tried to think where I was going to raise
the other two players from I realized it was not quite so
simple. The regiments which could scrape together a team had
already done so and, in some cases, had also entered a B team
so spare players were not easy to find.

However, I proceeded to keep on the look-out. Two days
later I came across a young horse gunner named Munro who
was a keen rider and was gradually getting interested in polo. I
approached him and he jumped at the idea and said he had
two very useful ponies which were going very nicely. I swore
him to secrecy and told him to practice just plain straight-
forward ball hitting for all he was worth in the next few days.
He wanted no telling!

The following day I spotted a keen young player by the
name of Collins, belonging to an Indian infantry regiment
which was not strong enough to raise a team on its own. He was
elated at the prospect, needed no persuasion and quickly
entered into the spirit of secrecy. I was now finished and the
team was complete. Collins had only one pony but I knew I
would be able to find another from either my stables or Major
Beg’s.

That evening I went over to Hyderabad to contact Shah
Mirza, and, sure enough, he was just coming in from polo
practice when I arrived at his bungalow.

‘Come in and tell me your news, Freddie,’ he called out.
‘Have a drink?’

‘Right, Shah, I will, thanks. Would you like to have your
bath and change first ?’

‘Oh no, I can’t wait that long! I will have a drink with you
and hear your news. Have you got the team together?’

‘Yes, Shah, I have them,’ and I proceeded to tell him who
they were. He knew George Munro and thought he was very
promising.

‘Who is the other chap ?’ he asked. ‘I can’t place him.’

‘A Peter Collins,’ I replied. ‘In the Carnatic Infantry. He
has only one pony but is very keen. How many ponies can you
manage, Shah?’

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 129

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I have two and I can have two of
my brother’s so that will make four from me. What can you do,
Freddie ?’

‘I can manage three, and George Munro can do two.’

‘Marvellous, Freddie, that makes our string ten ponies in
all, not bad for a four chukka match. That will give us two
ponies each with two in reserve.’

‘Good, Shah, now what about our plan of campaign ?’

‘Well, I had better go number four and you, Freddie, will
go number two—that will divide our strength between defence
and attack. I would like you at number three but I don’t think
we would be strong enough up forward.’

“Yes, Shah, I agree, but how are we going to place the
others? I think George Munro of the gunners is the better
player of the two, so he had better go number three and that
leaves Peter Collins at number one. What do you think ?’

‘Yes, I think that is our best formation. We can always
change it if things get difficult. I suggest you bring the others
along tomorrow night and we will have a talk.’

“Grand, Shah, I feel quite excited. I wonder who we will
draw against. It will be fun seeing some of the faces when they
see the Gymkhana side.’ We both laughed.

The following night I took George Munro and Peter
Collins over to meet Shah Mirza Beg. Although they knew of
him, and had seen him play, they had not met before. I
introduced everyone and we quickly got down to business.

Shah’s main idea was that Collins at No. 1 should concen-
trate on marking and riding off the opposing No. 4 and not
worry too much about playing the ball. In the case of Munro at
No. 3, he was to mark the opposing No. 2 in the usual way and
to concentrate on hitting the ball towards the side lines as much
as possible, especially when in our own half of the field, but at
all times to leave the ball alone if Shah Mirza was following
him up. I was at No. 2 and my job was to get well forward every
time Shah was on the ball and pick up his long raking shots.

We did notstay long and, after leaving Shah, we made our way
back to the club. We parted company here as we were still hold-
ing on to our little secret and did not want to give the show away.

130 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

In the club bar the general conversation was the tournament
and the draw which was to take place the following day. I did
not want to be drawn into any discussion which might lead to
indiscretions, so I quickly made my way upstairs to the ball-
room which was usually occupied by the ladies sitting round and
chatting. There was a gramophone playing a dance tune, so
when I spotted one of my favourite partners I whiled away an
hour out of harm’s way!

The next day was one of real excitement. The draw had
taken place and had been posted up on the club notice-board.
There were the names of the teams and the result of the draw
for the first round. I thought I detected a buzz of excitement
over the names of the Gymkhana team, firstly because of its
strange composition, and then for the fact that the great
Major Shah Mirza Beg was playing after all. Being one of the
very best players in all India he stood out far and away ahead
of any other player in the station. Owing to the inclusion of
our two lesser players our team was rated about average
handicap with the other teams but it had a rather odd and
unbalanced look about it. Our combined handicap was seven
goals for a four chukka match which compared favourably
with most of the other teams which were around the six to
eight goal mark. Shah Mirza Beg’s high handicap was brought
into proportion by the noughts of our two inexperienced
players.

The next piece of real excitement applied to me and me
alone! The Gymkhanas had been drawn against none other
than my own regimental team, the 8th Cavalry. This was really
putting the cat amongst the pigeons—I can think of no better
way of expressing it! As I looked at the list of the draw I was not
sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry. I suddenly had the
feeling that if there was one team which our scratch side was
likely to beat this was it!

We were down to play the first match the following after-
noon. I decided to steer clear of everyone by being very busy
at work in my office that morning.

In the afternoon I went to the polo ground fairly early to
get a good position for our ponies and made a point of standing

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 131

as far away from the 8th Cavalry ponies as possible. The
Secunderabad polo ground was already being lined by hundreds
of soldiers, both British and Indian. The whole panorama
presented a brilliant sight as the colourful tents for the specta-
tors and players lined all one side of the ground. On the far
side were the reserved spaces for the ponies and their saises
(which is the Indian word for groom). Each pony had his own
sais, who practically lived, ate and slept with his pony. Dust
sheets in the colours of the respective regiments covered each
pony’s back and in front, laid out in a neat row, were the polo
sticks in varying lengths used according to the sizes of the
different ponies.

Officers in and out of uniform, together with their ladies in
their coloured dresses and parasols, filled the chairs in front of
the tents. There were also large numbers of civilians, both
British and Indian, the Indian ladies looking particularly
colourful in their wonderfully decorated saris. It was a glorious
sight, the like of which may never be seen in such splendour
again.

The rest of the Gymkhana team had arrived, and we
gathered round Shah Mirza for his last few words about the
game. The bell sounded and I mounted my bay mare,
Hermione. I felt in good trim and knew instinctively that
I was going to play at the top of my form. I slipped the loop
of my stick over my wrist, wheeled my pony and cantered up
alongside Peter Collins, who I knew would be feeling a little
nervous at the ordeal of playing in his first biggish tournament.

‘Don’t worry, Peter,’ I said. ‘You will be O.K. when we
start going. Leave the ball alone until you are away and stick
to the number four like glue.’

‘Thanks, Freddie,’ he answered with a reassuring smile. ‘I
think we are in for some fun.’

I looked round and saw the other two cantering up
together. I thought I spotted a trace of expectancy in Shah’s
face as he smiled back at me. George Munro was looking
serious but steady.

The 8th Cavalry team had reached the centre of the field.
We all exchanged greetings and wished each other luck.

132 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

Colonel Heather, who was captain of their team, was
playing No. 4. He was a fine horseman and looked it. He was a
reasonably good player but was inclined to miss more shots than
would be expected on his handicap of four, especially when he
got a little rattled, which he was apt to do. Major Hammond
was playing No. 3 and, therefore, would be opposing me. This
fact pleased me, as I had never been impressed with his play.
He was inclined to be windy in a hard game and did not like
being ridden off forcefully. Captain Birch was playing No. 2
and I considered him to be their best player, in fact, he was the
one to watch. George Munro had been briefed accordingly.
Lieut. Megson was at No. 1. He was a keen player who played
polo with a rugby football outlook, which was to ride your
man like the devil. Not a bad idea if you can do it and keep it
up. His immediate problem was to be able to do it to Shah
Mirza Beg. I was not worried unduly!

The whistle went. The bamboo root ball was thrown into
the pack of players by the umpire and the game was on. There
was a click which echoed around the ground as Birch for the
8th connected with the ball with a neat wrist stroke and away
he went. He was well off the mark and got in another good shot
as we all streamed off after him. Shah Mirza, who had been
hovering a little way away from the pack at the start, was
quickly up alongside Birch who decided to strike the ball again
and sent it forward. It was his first mistake as he should have
left it to those coming up behind. Shah just leapt ahead of him
and we saw the first of many of those wonderful splitting back-
handers for which he was truly famous. We all turned and now
the pace began to quicken and I could see that their ponies
were, with the exception of Shah’s, just a shade faster than ours,
and I thought that this might tell against us in the long straight
runs. I decided to keep the ball along the side lines as long as
possible. Any loose ball getting into the centre would be
dangerous from our point of view. I hung on to the ball as long
as I could and then hit one to the centre towards the goal-
mouth. Peter went after it like a good ’un, but the colonel was
quicker and made a good back-hander which, in turn, relieved
the pressure against their goal. The game was now fast and

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 133

furious with the two backs rather dominating the game, with
their back-handers. Shah Mirza’s splitters, being so much
longer, were getting us out of trouble again and again. How-
ever, there was no doubt that our opponents were playing
better as a team and their work was rewarded by a clear two-
goal lead at the end of the first chukka. As the bell went for
the end of the chukka, we galloped off to change ponies. Shah
got in a quick word with me.

‘Play the ball to the right side of the field all the time,
Freddie. Keep it away from the centre and this will slow down
the game and give our ponies a better chance,’ he said.

‘O.K. Shah,’ and I quickly told the others.

The bell rang for the second chukka, and, as we galloped
to the place for the ball to be thrown in from where it had gone
out of play, it was obvious that the 8th were a bit cock-a-hoop
with their two-goal lead. As the chukka proceeded it was soon
seen how Shah’s great experience began to tell. He was
continually hitting the ball out to the right as we went towards
their goal and to the left as we defended our own goal. It will be
seen that by these tactics, our team was always playing the
easier offside right-hand shots, but our opponents were having
to hit near-side shots to enable them to bring the ball into the
centre. These are, of course, the more difficult shots. These
tactics paid us well, and, by the end of the second chukka we
had managed to chalk up a goal which was scored by George
Munro and the score was now two goals to one against us.

The bell went for the end of the second chukka and as we
streamed off to change ponies one could feel that the excitement
had gripped the crowd. As usual the crowd was on the side of
the underdogs, which in this case was us.

Once again the bell went for the third chukka and, as we
galloped out, Shah murmured, ‘Keep it up, Freddie. Don’t let
up on the plan.’

I nodded. ‘Right, Shah,’ and I again spoke briefly to the
others.

This time the chukka started with a hit from behind our
goal line by Shah and once again he hit one of those long
raking right-handers right up towards the right side-line

134 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

which in this case was the side of the tents and spectators. Each
time the ball came back so he would hit it in the direction of the
tents. This meant that we were always galloping towards the
crowds, which caused the ponies to slow down as no one,
neither man nor pony, likes galloping towards a crowd of
people. What with the heat, dust, the cheering, excited crowd
and no scoring, tempers were getting a little frayed. The
colonel was definitely getting rattled and was cursing his pony,
his team, himself when missing, Peter Collins for sticking to him
and finally us for our tactics.

This, in turn, was upsetting Major Hammond, who was
having a bad game in front of him and being pushed about by
me on every occasion. Birch was having the best game and was
definitely playing well. But, of course, the man of the match
was Shah. Nothing seemed to rattle him and he was playing at
the top of his form. The ball was always being sent through to
us up in front and then, when we were in trouble, he would
pull out those wonderful back-handers and relieve the pressure.

With the colonel rattled I knew I would get a chance
sooner or later and, sure enough, Shah hit up a long shot which
the colonel covered beautifully but, as he went to take a simple
back-hander, he glanced round to see where he would place it,
took his eye off the ball and, alas, missed his shot completely.
His team had already half turned in anticipation and I was left
spare and unmarked. Like a shot from a gun I went forward,
picked up the ball nicely with a little forward tap and, with an
open goal in front of me, hit a beauty through the middle.

This put us on terms of two goals each and now the battle
was on. One felt that at this stage the only rightful thing to
do would have been to exchange polo sticks for swords or
lances. Death was in the air! The crowds were now hysterical
and on their feet. The noise was terrific. The ponies all knew
that something was happening and were going like the wind—
there now appeared to be little difference in their pace. I swear
Shah was hitting the longest shots of his life. I was playing
right above my form and Peter Collins and George Munro were
now fully blooded and experienced. It had developed into an
amazing game,

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 135

As the third chukka was drawing to a close Captain Birch
stopped a grand hit from Shah and, getting away quickly,
scored a fine goal from a difficult angle. We had each scored a
goal in this chukka so the score now stood at two goals to three
against us.

We quickly changed ponies and as the bell went we came
out for the fourth and final chukka. Shah had impressed upon
us to keep to our scheme of playing the side lines and it certainly
had paid us well.

The last chukka started from near the centre and once
again Birch got away but Shah was after him and again he got
in one of his splitting back-handers. I was quickly off the mark
with young Megson streaming after me. The ball was away on
my right as usual but this time it was not quite so far over. I saw
Megson coming for me and instead of making for the ball I
decided to try a stunt which, if it came off, could mean a goal.
We were away ahead of the field and as he came for me I
closed with him. He, not realizing the ball was well over to the
right, proceeded to give me all he knew in a ride off. I pretended
to resist but was not actually doing so. The result was that he
had pushed me and my pony right on to the line of the ball. I
then gave him a quick shoulder and, as he rose in his saddle to
retaliate, I got in a fine quick shot just in time and through the
posts it went. The score was now three all, and there was still
quite a little time left of the chukka.

The colonel’s temper had gone again, and he was cursing
all and sundry, with the result that even Birch was going to
pieces. The pace was now crack-a-jack, and luckily for me I was
on my best mare, a grey Australian Waler named ‘Wintry’,
very temperamental but a grand pony when things were going
right and she was on the top of her form now.

The pace of the game was telling on us all. The colonel
was looking quite done up as he had been playing a hard game.
Hammond was almost out in his saddle, Birch was still going
but had been ruffled by his colonel’s shouting and cursing, while
Megson, who was as strong as a young lion, had had a rough
time trying to ride off Shah for four chukkas, a tough enough
job for any man,

136 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

Peter Collins was still going well but the colonel’s cursing
had shaken him a bit. I had had about all I could take but was
still feeling excited over the possible result and this gave me
added strength. George Munro had had a good match and
was still going strong. Shah was in his element but was showing
the strain of a hard match, besides having had to carry a little
more than he was used to. Time was now running out and the
score was still three all. The play was getting a little ragged
when suddenly Shah called out, ‘Now, Freddie, this is it!’ This
was the signal for our final gamble. The idea was that when the
ball next crossed our goal line and Shah Mirza would take the
hit out as usual, we were each to mark our man more closely.
Then, instead of Shah hitting the ball up to us where we were
all bunched together over to the right side of the field, he was
to change his shot at the last second and risk a shot down the
left centre of the field. He was going to try a run through on
his own. I quietly signalled to the others and they nodded,
quickly taking up their places on the inside of their man with
little notice being taken. Then Shah Mirza, taking a longer run
at the ball, caught it a lovely crack right down the left centre
of the field and quickly followed it up with a tremendous turn
of speed. Our job now was to ride our men off like hell and
prevent them getting into Shah. The language they all let
fly as they realized the trick which we had played on them
would have shocked the Royal Navy.

The whole movement was one of surprise, and it depended
on the success of Shah Mirza making a clean run through on
his own. Failure could mean disaster as he would be too far
forward should he miss the shot and not be able to recover.
He got away to a wonderful start which electrified the crowd
who were quick to spot the trick we had pulled off. The effect
was amazing. Everyone, Indian and British alike, was standing
up and shouting themselves hoarse. The colonel on a fast pony
had cut himself loose from Peter Collins and was going for
Shah like a bat out of hell, but I had anticipated his move and,
being on my reliable grey mare, I was up alongside him in the
nick of time and, what is more, was on his inside. We became
locked together and I held him in a vice with my right leg in

PIGSTICKING AND POLO 137

front of his left knee. His curses were enough to turn the blue
skies pink, but I held on for grim death.

Shah was still in possession and was going like the wind at
a speed equal to any horse-race. At such a speed could he
possibly hit the ball—and hit it straight?

We were catching him up at an angle and the colonel was
gradually forcing me over towards him with every ounce of
energy left in his body. Could I hold out? I saw Shah give a
quick glance over his shoulder and realized what was happen-
ing. He was now getting within shooting distance for a shot
at goal but at that speed he was liable to be off the target. Shah
then took his last gamble. He altered his course slightly so that
his next shot would have to be from the near side of his pony
and this shot must be for goal.

He came at me with all his weight which promptly sent
the colonel and me off at a tangent and, before either of us could
recover from the shock, with a wonderful flick of the wrist from
the near side, the ball was through the goal.

The cheers from the crowds were deafening. It was the
decider and the Gymkhanas had won by four goals to three.
The bell went just after that and I quickly managed to send
the ball out of play. We all rode off thanking each other and
our opponents but I had a feeling that that was not the end of
the match for me.

After we had changed our shirts and joined the ladies in
the tents everyone was full of congratulations, and it was
generally agreed that it had been a great game and that we
had given the tournament a grand start.

As I walked into mess that evening and clicked my heels
to say good evening to the senior officer, conscious that my dress
spurs jingled more than usual, I felt the atmosphere could be cut
with a knife. I sensed a feeling that I was not a popular member
at the moment! When, a little later in the evening, someone
inadvertently uttered the word ‘Gymkhana’ there was an
embarrassing silence. It reminded me of my childhood days in
the nursery when we had been caught saying a naughty word
and would hear the nurse say, ‘Oh dear, and that is a little
word we never mention.’

II

Indian Cavalry in Peacetime

ITH the return of the cool weather and the influx

\ \ | of women the racing season began. This was always
an exciting time because it gave a great start to the

social activities which carried on right through Christmas and
well into January. The Gymkhana Races were great fun.
Most young subalterns of the cavalry regiments fancied them-
selves as G.R.s—Gentlemen Riders—and the rivalry between
the various regiments was very keen. British Cavalry units just
out from England invariably had one or two G.R.s with repu-
tations. They, of course, never worried us Indian Cavalry types
as racing in England and India are two very different things.
This was very much the same with polo as again the conditions
and style of play differed considerably in the two countries.

The racecourse, except for one or two enclosures, was
completely open to the public. The Indians, being great
gamblers, turned out in vast numbers and surrounded the
course making the whole scene bright and colourful.

At this particular meeting I had an experience which I am
never likely to forget. I was down to ride in four out of the six
races and had ridden in two with a little success, having won
one and been placed in the other. In the fourth race of the
day I was to ride a big black Australian Waler which went by
the name of ‘Thunderbolt’, a very appropriate name for him
too. I had never ridden the animal before. When the bell went
for the jockeys to mount I approached him with caution as
from the moment I appeared in the ring he began to play up
like the devil. It took three men to hold him while I mounted
and the minute I was on his back I felt instinctively I was in for

138

INDIAN CAVALRY IN PEACETIME 139

trouble. He plunged and reared, scattering people right and
left, and, as we turned into the course to go to the starting
point he gave one high bound and away he went. It was as
much as I could do to keep my seat as he had a mouth like
iron and in a second was out of control. Away he went, right
past the starting-post and down the course, going like the wind
with me hanging on for dear life. We did a complete lap of
the course and as he came up to the other horses who were
lined up at the starting gate, he stopped.

The starter cursed me for holding up the race and asked
me if I intended to start. I was too scared to say no as I felt I
would not be able to get the beast away from the other horses.
With that he dropped his flag and the race started. From that
moment I knew I was really in trouble. I had just about as
much control over the wretched animal as if I had been riding
a tiger! Away he went and, in spite of his previous gallop round
the course, he went through the field as if they did not exist. I
got cursed and sworn at by the jockeys but that didn’t mean a
thing. The race was seven furlongs, but it would have been the
same if it had been seven miles. We were right out in front with
the others streaming behind. I thought to myself that this was
about the best thing which could happen as he would tire at
any moment and pack up with sheer exhaustion. But not a bit
of it. He was going like mad, the crowd were yelling him on
like mad, the jockeys were cursing like mad and I was feeling
mad at the whole wretched business! We flashed past the post,
to all intents an easy winner—but now the real fun began.
Attempts by me to stop the brute were just useless. He made
straight for the nearest opening leading from the course,
scattering people like chaff before the wind. He had the bit
between his teeth and was now heading for the regimental
stables which were about two miles from the course and nothing
I could do would stop him. The best I could do was to hang on
like grim death.

We had now reached the road so any chance of throwing
myself off was out of the question. We passed bullock carts and
in many instances succeeded in frightening the animals which
were pulling them—how we avoided a collision with some of

140 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

them I don’t know. Eventually we reached the regimental lines
and galloped right into the stables before the brute stopped.

I slid off his back in a state of collapse. My hands were
bleeding from being cut by the reins; my white breeches were
bloodstained through the galls on my legs and I was aching all
over from the effects of the ride. Perspiration was pouring off the
horse and his mouth was bleeding from my tugs at his bit, but
apart from that we were not as bad as might be expected.

I did not return to the races again that day and it took me
many weeks to live down that undignified episode.

Life with the regiment at that time of the year was indeed
very pleasant. The mess was fuller than it had been for some
time with the result that there were sufficient officers to get the
work done. Our routine was early morning parade, breakfast
followed by stables; then C.O.s or Adjutant’s parade once or
twice a week. On other days we would have riding school,
remount training, weapon training or such work as the
squadron commander thought necessary. During this time
orderly room would be held and perhaps the C.O. would have
a conference with both British and Indian officers attending.
By lunch time work for the day was over for most people. After
lunch everybody would rest for an hour because of the heat
but the young British officers would have to spend one or two
hours with the regimental ‘Munchi’ who was the Urdu lan-
guage instructor. Most of us thought this the worst period of
the day. When one had really got the hang of the language it
was not too bad and because of its necessity in dealing with the
men one got keener on it but still, for the first year or two, it
was really very difficult.

As soon as tea was over—and it was taken early—life began
to move again, especially on Mondays, Wednesdays and
Fridays, which were polo days. The other days were taken up in
schooling polo ponies or young horses and sometimes breaking
in a horse or two for the regimental drag—a four-in-hand
break. Occasionally we would play the odd game of golf or
sometimes manage to sneak away for a little ‘poodle faking’
tennis. The expression “poodle faking’ seems to have gone
completely out of date, no doubt due to the levelling up of the

INDIAN CAVALRY IN PEACETIME I4!

sexes, but, in those days, it was generally frowned upon by the
C.O. of a cavalry regiment for certain reasons. In the first place
he did not consider that a subaltern had the time to waste with
women because they had their jobs to learn and secondly no
young officer in an Indian cavalry regiment was allowed to
marry before the age of twenty-eight. There were, of course,
good reasons for this. One was because it was quite impossible
to have too many married officers in a regiment as it would
mean that there would be too few officers in mess which, in
those days, was considered the main centre from which the
regiment was run.

Therefore a considerable time was spent on courses of
instruction during the first few years, learning the art of war
which, again, was very different from what it became later. In
those days so much depended on the actual individual officer.
Probably the most convincing argument against marriage,
though, was that a young subaltern could not afford it. Unless
a young officer had some private means it was quite impossible
to live on an officer’s pay. Our basic pay was 5s. 6d. a day so
any nonsense about how we drained India dry with our high
living can be completely overruled. It was said that a young
British officer of the Indian Cavalry was in debt for the first
half of his service and spent the second half getting out of debt
just in time to retire. Be that as it may the fact remains that it
was a grand life and well worth any sacrifice.

The weather began to get hotter soon after February and
one day as I walked into the mess at lunch time I was greeted by
the kitmaghar who said that the regimental shikari was outside
and had reported that a large panther was causing a lot of
trouble around a small village on the road to Nagonda, which
was about five miles away.

He wanted to know if any of the officers were prepared to
go out and shoot it as the villagers were scared and upset at
the amount of damage it was doing. From his report it appeared
that the panther had made its hide-out in some rocks just out-
side the village and was making killing raids on the domestic
animals of the small community almost nightly. Some nights
it would be a goat and others its prey would be a donkey, but

142 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

the killings were continuous and the villagers were in a state
of terror. If the victim was a donkey then the panther would
return to the kill as he could not finish it at one sitting, but if
it was a goat he was able to devour it all in one night and would
make another kill the following evening.

As can be imagined the villagers were in a very agitated
state and had implored the shikari to come in and try to get
someone to go out and help them. They had hoped that the
panther would pass on its way after a few kills but, as so often
happens, when a beast comes across an unwalled village where
the domestic animals are free to roam around, he finds his
prey so easily that he decides to stay.

There were no other officers about as it happened so I deci-
ded to have an early snack and go out immediately after lunch to
try and rid the village of the unpleasant visitor that very evening.

I finished my sketchy meal and called to my bearer to go
and get my things ready at once. I decided to wear just a pair
of corduroys and a bush shirt and told my servant to pack my
holdall and bedding, together with a small bivouac tent as I
would be staying the night. I told him to put some food in my
haversack and make sure to take two or three water bottles. My
next job was to sort out my guns and ammunition. This is
always a bit of a problem as one wants to take so many, but I
finally decided to take only a .405 game gun and a .303 trusted
service rifle. I would, of course, take my .45 pistol and holster
and also a good bowie knife.

As I looked at the amount of kit which was rapidly piling
up, I realized that it was too much to try and get on a horse, so I
decided to take one of the regimental camels which could easily
carry all my kit, the sowar and myself. I would not then have the
trouble of taking any horses. The thought also passed through
my mind that horses might not be too safe from the panther
just picketed around that village—whereas the camel would be.

In less than an hour all was ready for me to make a start.
The sowar and the camel arrived at my bungalow and he
ordered it to kneel down in that strange language which is
used only to camels and which they seem to understand. My
baggage, complete with guns, was loaded in two neat bundles

INDIAN CAVALRY IN PEACETIME 143

on each side of his back. The sowar then took up his position
in front of the hump and I quickly took up mine on the back
of the hump. Another peculiar sound from the sowar, a grunt
from the camel and the animal rose slowly and majestically
to its feet and away we went.

To the uninitiated riding on a camel’s back is just about the
most uncomfortable means of transport one can imagine. Not
only it is uncomfortable, however, but unless the rider is used
to it, a certain type of sickness is very easily come by. Because
of the long slow stride a kind of boat roll is set up which causes a
peculiar feeling very like seasickness and with the same dire
results! This feeling is accentuated when the camel breaks into
a trot because the whole rolling movement is quickened and the
ride becomes thoroughly uncomfortable. However, I had long
ago got used to it and I was more bent on getting to my
destination in time for a possible shoot this evening than on
giving way to sickness!

It was early in the afternoon when we got away and the
sun was a bit trying but my inward feeling of excitement made
light of such things. I estimated that it would take me just over
an hour to reach the village and I expected to take another hour
getting into position.

The shikari had gone on ahead with instructions to get
things ready for my arrival. His job was to go out into the
jungle which surrounded the village to scout around for panther
spoor or the previous night’s kill and decide as to whether the
panther was likely to return to the kill or whether he would
strike again that evening.

We duly arrived at the village and the villagers turned out
in force to greet me as they had been warned of my coming.
There is no doubt that they were delighted to see me and tried
to express their pleasure in various simple ways such as helping
the sowar to unload the camel, fetching water for us and helping
to set up my small camp. When one looked around and observed
the poor and simple way in which these people lived, one got
the feeling that it was a very good thing indeed to try and help
them by ridding them of a menace which took such a severe
toll of their meagre livestock.

144 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

I had pitched my camp just outside the village and by this
time the shikari had returned from his work in the jungle.
He reported that he had found the kill of the previous night
but, as it was that of a small goat, there was nothing left of it
and he felt sure that the panther would strike again this
evening. After a little more talk with him, I decided to get off
at once to the machan which he told me he had built. This is a
hide-out, built at some height above the ground, from which the
hunter takes up his position in order to get his shot at the game
he is after. Sometimes it is built up a tree or on a rock. The
important thing is that it must be inaccessible and well camou-
flaged with either branches or palm leaves. It had a peep-hole
through which one could look around and through which a
rifle could be fired.

In this particular case, the shikari had built the machan
on a good-sized rocky boulder, the top of which was about
twelve feet from the ground. My first impression was that it was
a good one with a nice view over a piece of clearing some eighty
yards in front. But, on looking around, I saw that the back of
the rock sloped down to the ground and that it did not present
any great difficulty to an animal which wanted to climb it,
such as a panther or a tiger. I pointed out this fact to the
shikari but he just said that he did not think the panther
would come this way. I only hoped he was right. He had
brought a live goat along with him and this he proceeded to
tie to a stake about sixty yards out in front. It was now about
half past five in the evening and according to my calculations
it would begin to get dark about half past six and, as is the way
of the East, it would be completely dark before seven o’clock.
Everything in fact had got to happen within an hour.

I had taken up my position in the machan and was watching
the shikhari tying up the goat. He had just finished and I expect-
ed him to come back and join me in the machan. Imagine my
feelings and surprise when IJ suddenly realized that he had gone
right past my machan on the rock and was making his way
back towards the village, apparently in a hurry judging by the
sound of his fast receding rustle through the undergrowth.

The goat had now started to squeal and for a moment I

INDIAN CAVALRY IN PEACETIME 145

felt rather like the goat, lonely and a bit unnerved, and I began
to wonder what was happening. It was not long before I
realized what the commotion was about. As I looked through
my peep-hole, there, only about a hundred and fifty yards
away, sitting on a large rock, was a fully-grown tiger apparently
engaged in watching the entire proceedings.

Apparently what had happened was that while the shikari
had been tying up the goat it had suddenly let out a squeal at
which he had looked up and spotted the tiger. He decided it
was no place for him and had made off as fast as he could. I
was now definitely shaken as I had not expected things to
happen in quite this way and so very quickly. I had come out
to shoot panther and now found myself quite alone and faced
with a fully grown tiger.

I reached for my water bottle and took a deep drink of
water with the object of calming my shaky nerves. Feeling a
little better I decided to take stock of the position. My guns
consisted of a .405 express rifle, a .303 service rifle, a .45 pistol
and a good bowie knife. I had previously loaded both my rifles
and pistol and so was quite ready to go into action.

My next concern was how to go about it. I looked around
and realized that my position was not nearly so good as I had
first thought and IJ had a nasty feeling of insecurity from behind.
However, there was nothing I could do about it now so the
only thing was to get on with the job. I looked out again and
there was the tiger still sitting on the rock staring at the goat
which was, by this time, making a fearful noise. I saw the tiger
glance once or twice in my direction but I felt that he had not
spotted me and that he was much more interested in the goat.
He appeared to be in no hurry to attack. I was already getting
very worried as time was now definitely going against me.
Looking at my watch I saw that it was past six o’clock and
there was still no sign of action on the part of the tiger. Presently
he got up and began to pace backwards and forwards along the
top of the rock which must have measured about twenty yards.
At each end he would pause, look toward the goat for a second,
and then turn around and walk back again. Still no sign of
attack on his part and I was really getting more than worried.

J

146 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

The time factor was now beginning to get on top of me.
I had got to do something. I knew that to take a shot at this
range was the height of folly as the chances of making an out-
right kill were remote. Although the tiger silhouetted against
the skyline presented a wonderful target and one which I felt
quite competent of hitting, I could not be sure that my shot
would be fatal. There could be no question of my leaving the
machan, as to get down now and walk back through the jungle
would be asking for trouble.

I looked at my watch and saw that it was nearing six thirty
and the sun was going down fast. Something had to be done,
so, after thinking things over, I decided to try a long shot with
my .303 rifle which I thought would be the most reliable at
this distance. The tiger had now stopped his pacing and was
sitting with his eyes fixed on the goat which had quietened down
for a moment. Now was my chance. Raising my rifle I took very
careful aim. I felt I was right on my target and, after taking
a deep breath, I pressed the trigger. That was the loudest shot
I ever remember as the report echoed through the jungle. I
felt sure I had hit him fair and square. He appeared to leap
into the air and crashed down again, but, to my horror, he
had completely disappeared from the top of the rock and out
of sight. My next thought was—had I killed him outright or
had I just wounded him ? If it was the latter I was now in dire
trouble as the thought of a wounded tiger only a hundred and
fifty yards from me was rather terrifying.

There was nothing for it but to get back to the village as
fast as possible. Quickly I climbed down from the machan and
made my way over to the goat which I released. He gave a
bound and made his way off through the jungle as fast as he
could go. I followed him as quickly as possible. Without a
doubt it was one of the most frightening journeys I have ever
made. I had decided to leave my .405 gun behind with the
idea of collecting it later and carried my .303 rifle and my pistol
which I had in my hand at the ready.

The journey back was unnerving as I imagined wounded
tigers at every turn and, what made matters worse, I was not
too certain of the way back as I had expected the shikari to

INDIAN CAVALRY IN PEACETIME 147

be with me. However, my sense of direction had not deserted
me and I was very relieved when I got clear of the jungle to see
the village ahead of me.

The shikari, followed by a group of the villagers, was
coming towards me and I was truly thankful to see them. They
had, of course, heard my shot and clustered around me to hear
the result. My first reaction was to slate the shikari for desert-
ing me but I saw that he was quite prepared for this and
grinned sheepishly. I told him what had happened and that
the only thing we could do would be to go out first thing in the
morning to see what had happened as it was now far too dark.

I went back to my camp and found a good meal of curry
and rice waiting for me. After dinner I went into the village
and talked to some of the older men for a little while and then
went back to my tent to bed.

I slept well but was awakened once during the night by the
sinister laughter of a hyena and the how! of jackals not very far
away. However, I went to sleep again and awoke at dawn to
the chatter of the children of the village.

The shikari was waiting for me and with a small party of
villagers we set off for the scene of my previous night’s adven-
ture. The villagers were armed with stout sticks cut for the
occasion which IJ advised them to take as I was still uncertain as
to what had happened. We reached the jungle and I got them
to spread out in a line but told them not to get out of touch
with one another and to go very slowly.

We made our way back to the machan and I decided not to
let anyone go farther forward until the shikari and I had
cleared the rock on which I had last seen the tiger alive.
Anxiously the two of us approached the rock, climbed it and
looked over. There, on the other side, was a truly ugly sight.
The body of the tiger was there, or rather what was left of him. I
had killed him outright and he was lying where he had fallen, but
the jackals had been at their work and there was very little left.

Yes—I suddenly remembered those eerie howls during the
night and the jungle law which holds that the jackal will
follow the tiger to reap the benefit of its kills. In this instance,
though, they had caught up with the slain tiger instead.

I2

Secunderabad

interesting home leave. This particular voyage was out-

standing in that romance was in the air. The week previous
to sailing I was invited to meet a young couple who had just
married and were to sail on the same ship. He was a civilian
and going to India for the first time. The voyage was to be their
honeymoon trip. He was rather quiet and she was a pretty red-
head—gay and full of life. I wondered how they would fit into
Indian life. They were not going to a military station which was,
I thought, perhaps just as well!

Before leaving the party we agreed to meet on the boat ina
few days’ time. When I arrived at the docks and went on board
they were already there, leaning over the rails watching people
come aboard. We greeted each other and, after going to my
cabin to see that everything was in order, I rejoined them and
we strolled around the deck together. They had never travelled
before and asked me to initiate them into the life on board. I
said I would be only too pleased.

It always appeared to me to be a strange thing that no
matter how often one travelled P. & O. to India, very few
people knew one another when they got on the ship at the
commencement of a voyage.

It was so in this instance and I recognized few people whom
I knew. The girl at once suggested that we should have a table
in the dining-saloon for only the three of us. At first I resisted
the idea as my experience of travelling on board ship was that
one should keep as free as possible because one never knew what
might develop.

Si months later I sailed again for India after an

148

SECUNDERABAD 149

They were obviously rather sensitive about being newly-
wed and did not want to be conspicuous. With her persuasive-
ness and my weakness for a pretty face, I allowed myself to be
talked over and agreed. I went down to the saloon and fixed
things up with the chief steward.

Presently the hooters and sirens sounded and the big
ship drifted slowly out of the docks heading for the open
sea.

We continued our walk until it was time to dress for dinner
and then went to our cabins which were on the same deck. We
met a little later and as the dinner gong sounded we went into
the dining-saloon together. The girl with her lovely red hair
and emerald green evening gown looked beautiful. Her husband
was fair and I was tall and dark so we made quite a trio as we
entered. Being the first night the saloon was full and the usual
air of excitement prevailed as dinner was served.

After dinner we went up on deck and again walked around
together, not mixing with the other passengers as we agreed
there was plenty of time.

The ship had now turned into the English Channel and the
wind had freshened up considerably. The boat was rolling a
little and after a while we retired to our cabins. It was usual for
me, on the first night at sea, to go along to the bar and see who
was around, and generally get acquainted with other officers
going back from leave.

On this occasion, for some unknown reason, I decided to
go to bed as it had been a long day.

The next morning I was up early but few people were
around as the sea was rough and the boat was being tossed
about. I went into breakfast alone as Bill and Reddy, as I
called them, apparently were not yet up. I had just started when
Reddy came in alone. We greeted each other.

“Where’s Bill?’ I asked. ‘Is he coming ?”

‘Afraid not,’ she answered. ‘He’s had a rough night and is
not too well.’

I looked at her—she was radiant. ‘How do you feel? You
look well—does the sea affect you ?’

‘I’m simply marvellous,’ she said with a laugh. ‘That is—

150 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

I am at the moment but, strangely enough, I don’t think I shall
be seasick anyway.’

‘Good,’ I said with a grin. ‘Poor Bill, I am sorry for him. It
must be horrid to go sick, especially on one’s honeymoon.’ We
both laughed.

We breakfasted together. When we finished I went along
to their cabin with her to see how her husband was. He was
very bad indeed and only wished to be left alone; there was
little we could do so we went up on deck and made ourselves
comfortable. In some strange way the other passengers left us
to ourselves and we did not go out of our way to mix with
them.

At lunch it was the same and we dined alone. Still no sign
of Bill recovering. He was really ill and although we spent as
much time with him as he wanted, we were always being
thrown back on each other’s company.

Naturally, I did not find this unpleasant and when, after
two days, the dancing in the saloon lounge commenced, we
danced together for a little while and then retired to see how
Bill was progressing.

Sometimes we took rather longer than was absolutely
necessary to get from the saloon to the cabin and spent hours
together in nooks and crannies on the boat deck. The inevitable
happened and we flirted outrageously.

After the fourth day as we rounded Gibraltar and entered
the Mediterranean, Bill recovered and put in an appearance.
Then to his and our astonishment various passengers came up
to us and, when inquiring after his health, called him by my
name instead of his own.

It appeared that because of my tender and intimate care
of Reddy, everyone had taken it for granted that I was her
husband. For that reason they thought we were on our honey-
moon and wished to be left alone. The man who had been ill
and had not put in an appearance since the night the ship
sailed had been mistaken for me and naturally enough they
called him by my name.

He quickly realized that things had grown more than a
little complicated in his absence. Our relations became a little

SECUNDERABAD I5I

strained for some days but we managed to patch things up for
the remainder of the voyage.

I always knew that I should not have agreed to that separate
table in the dining-saloon, but, yes, it was worth it.

As we now grew better acquainted with the other passengers
we soon found out that we were not the only ones to cause
complications. Among the passengers the news got around that
there were no less than eleven girls on board who were engaged
to men in India and were going out there with the intention of
getting married as soon as they arrived. They hoped to be met at
Bombay by their respective fiancés who would take them away
to the various stations where the weddings would take place.

But the blue sea by day and the warm starry nights of
the Mediterranean, Red Sea and Indian Ocean had taken
effect. No fewer than nine girls out of the eleven became
engaged to different men on the voyage and when the ship
reached Bombay the complications were terrific. I had been
saved by the fact that the husband had been on the ship, but
only just!

When I arrived back in India it was the cold weather
season—or so it was called. We wild young men had another
name for it.

The annual influx of women usually descended upon us at
this time. Stations everywhere in India changed their appear-
ance almost overnight. Wives came down from the hills while
others returned from England. Some came accompanied by
unmarried daughters just finished school, some by nieces,
friends, daughters’ friends and daughters’ daughters. In other
words the marriage market was on and the poor bachelors of
India were their prey! Tiger hunting was tame in comparison.
There were exceptions, however, and we very young cavalry
officers were among them.

In those days, as I have mentioned before, under no
circumstances would a junior officer be allowed to marry under
the age of twenty-eight. Was it any wonder that our reputations
were such that we were anathema to designing mammas. Their
pretty protegées were steered clear of us and paraded before the
more eligible seniors; in other words, those who had managed to

152 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

struggle out of their debts and were in a position to contem-
plate the final plunge. Such was our plight that when on one
occasion I chanced to dance with a newly arrived debutante, I
was invited to tea the next afternoon and asked point blank
what my intentions were. Judging by the glint in mamma’s
eye it was obvious that she did not think they could possibly
be honourable.

Such a state of affairs naturally led to—well—a ‘state of
affairs’. We were forced to turn to young married women for
female companionship, sometimes with disastrous results
especially when the young were married to the not-so-young.
Intrigues became the custom and scandal the byword—but
what a lot of fun it was.

On one occasion a certain young lady was being protected
by her mamma and I had been warned off. There was a fancy-
dress ball at the club however, and I went dressed as harlequin
and very heavily masked so that I was able to dance with my
forbidden partner. Everything went well until late in the
evening when rashness set in and caution no longer prevailed.
Imagine our horror when mamma suddenly appeared and to
our complete embarrassment chased me off the dance floor.

Then there was the celebrated occasion when, during
another dance, the lights failed and the ballroom was plunged
into darkness except for the light of the moon shining brightly
through the fanlights around the roof. There, silhouetted against
the skyline, was the unmistakable and well-known figure of a
certain heavily married colonel, locked in the arms of the
daughter of the station commander. There was a hush, a few
nervous coughs and giggles and then a roar of laughter as the
guilty couple suddenly scrambled for cover.

Again there was the more tragic case of the elderly judge
who was married to a woman twenty-five or thirty years
younger. She had that little tinge of Indian blood in her which
added to her undoubted beauty. Within a year two young
officers committed suicide over her. It was said of her that
although she was not averse to falling in love, her high position
came first and she was quite definite about it.

The highlight of the cool weather season was the Proclama-

SECUNDERABAD 153

tion Parade which took place every year on 1 January. In
peacetime this was one of the most colourful ceremonial
parades of the year as it was usually carried out in full dress by
the Indian Army. On this occasion the proclamation was read
by a senior civil or military officer taking the parade. This was
followed by a march past of the troops which, in turn, was
followed by the feu de joie (fire of joy).

The feu de joie was a ceremonial exercise carried out firstly
with a salute of guns bythe Royal Artillery and, secondly, by the
infantry firing blanks in such a manner as to make it sound like
a machine-gun, with the rattle fading away into the distance.
This was done by each man in the front rank firing his rifle
immediately after the man on his right had fired. When the
firing reached the end of the line on the left, the rear rank
carried on from there until it reached the right of the line
from where it had started. It was very effective and extremely
popular with soldiers and spectators alike for there was always
a large gathering.

Full dress for the cavalry on these occasions was very
colourful as each regiment had different facings. The British
officers wore the same type of Indian dress as the men, which
meant that they had to wear a lungi (turban) on their heads.
Although a turban is a very spectacular form of head dress,
it is not nearly so comfortable as it looks. In the first place it
has to be put on very firmly which makes the head very hot and,
secondly, it affords no cover or shade to the eyes from the
blazing sun. The blue kurta (with shoulder chains) was
reasonably comfortable but the long coloured cummerbund
which went around the waist had to be tight to look really
smart and again made one very hot. With these went white
melton breeches and black knee-boots with glittering spurs two
inches long. Altogether a fantastic and gorgeous array but
quite exhausting in the heat of an Indian sun.

One particular proclamation parade stands out in my
memory because of an unusual incident which occurred. A
complete cavalry brigade, together with a full infantry brigade,
was drawn up on parade. J Battery of the Royal Horse Artillery
was right of the line, looking very grand with its horse-drawn

154 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

guns and limbers. One battery was out in front to fire the salute
later. Next in line was the 18th Hussars (British) and then came
three regiments of Indian cavalry in full dress with lances and
pennons flying. The 7th Hariana Lancers with light-blue
facings, the 8th Cavalry with red facings and the 29th Deccan
Horse with yellow facings made a truly colourful and magnifi-
cent sight. Continuing the line after a little break was the
Infantry Brigade which included one regiment of British
infantry and three regiments of Indian infantry. The whole
parade was most impressive.

Being in command of a squadron of the 8th Cavalry, I was
out in front and had a good view of the parade and everything
which was going on.

Owing to the size of the parade the saluting base on which
the G.O.C. stood was quite a distance away from our immediate
front. Behind this was the cordoned enclosure for the visitors
and ladies of the station. Surrounding the whole parade
ground were the Indian spectators in their thousands whose
love of colourful ceremonial is renowned.

The most conspicuous cavalryman on parade that day
was the G.O.C.s A.D.C., a certain Captain Bell whose nick-
name, of course, was “Tinkle’. He was seconded from one of
the Indian cavalry regiments on parade which shall be name-
less. His job was to dash about and liaise between the saluting
base and the officers commanding regiments to ascertain when
they were ready and report accordingly. This meant a great
deal of galloping which was very tiring to both horse and rider,
especially so as it had to be done with a drawn sword to enable
him to make the numerous salutes which such a task entailed.
With the critical eyes of a whole cavalry brigade on him he was
riding at his best with his seat well down in the saddle and his
sword and back very erect.

He was a good horseman and had been galloping about, to
and fro, for some little time as we sat patiently in the boiling
sun waiting for the orders to move. His final effort was to get
his report from the gunners on the right to the last infantry
battalion on the extreme left of the line, which was quite a
considerable distance, receiving the ‘all correct’ from the

SECUNDERABAD 155

commanding officer as he galloped past. He was going at a
really fast pace, with his ‘lungi’ fluttering in the wind behind
him in grand style, when suddenly he appeared to be in
trouble. He had lost a stirrup and was finding it difficult to
get his big black boot into it again. The right thing to do under
such circumstances is to slip the other foot out of the stirrup,
to remain balanced and ease up and slip them in again. This
is not a difficult thing to do in the ordinary way but it is not
at all easy in full dress and knee-boots.

He must have been a little undecided and disaster overcame
him very quickly as he became completely unbalanced and in
the next second or two he came a most frightful purler before
the whole parade. His sword and lungi flew in different
directions and the horse galloped off to join the nearest horses.
The result was quite startling as one heard smothered laughter
from the whole line. The British officers just dared not look at
one another. For a moment I thought I would explode in
trying to suppress my laughter but quickly swung round and
shouted my men to order.

The whole thing had happened in seconds but was quite
unforgettable. Poor Tinkle picked himself up and his horse was
quickly returned to him and the parade carried on as if nothing
had happened. The march past, which was very spectacular,
took place soon after. First the horse gunners galloped past with
guns and limbers and then the cavalry galloped past in lines
of squadrons. A really wonderful sight.

Naturally that evening the club bar buzzed with mirth over
the incident and I fear Tinkle’s dignity was a little shaken and
it took him some time to live that one down.

One evening a particular friend of mine of another regiment
in the station, at the time acting as personal assistant to the
British Resident, asked me to dine with him at the club. His
name was Ronald March but he answered to the name of Bud.
He had just returned from a tour of the state with his chief,
and, as we had not seen one another recently we decided to
spend the evening together at the club as a change from the
formality of dining in mess.

As sometimes happened, the club was rather deserted that

156 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

evening and we were the only two members actually ‘dining
in’. We stayed in the bar until most of the members had
departed and then went to the changing rooms and, taking our
time, slowly dressed for dinner.

We chatted away as we donned our white dinner jackets
with black trousers and then made our way to the dining-room,
where we proceeded to have our dinner. We were half way
through our meal when suddenly the club kitmaghar rushed in
to tell us that the Secunderabad bazaar, which was not far
from the club, was on fire.

We immediately jumped up from the table, not troubling
to finish our dinner, and hurried out to see what was happening.
There, sure enough, not very far away, was the ominous glow
of a big fire which lit up the whole area. Quickly we made our
way to the seat of the trouble. As soon as we arrived on the
scene the Indians ran towards us wringing their hands and
crying out for us to help them. We were the first Europeans to
reach the terrible and frightening spectacle. The fire had taken
a firm grip of the bazaar and was driving through the small
shops with alarming speed. The Indians were completely
helpless and were so shocked at the awful tragedy that they
appeared to be quite incapable of trying to do anything to
help themselves. We quickly got them organized. I found the
nearest water point and soon had a chain of buckets passing
up a line to the fire where Marsh was trying to stop the fire
from spreading by directing and making the best use of the
water. We decided that to stop it we would have to make a gap
in the line of shop buildings. They were, fortunately, only one
storey high and, being built of mud, were not difficult to knock
down. The trouble was to get them cleared of all the junk with
which they were filled. When the Indians saw how we had set
to work on getting something done they quickly rallied round
and took their lead from us. The little fire-fighting equipment
that was available had arrived by this time, but it did not
consist of much more than one hose-pipe and half a dozen
picks and shovels. Marsh took charge of the hose and soon got
it directed on to the heart of the conflagration. In the meantime
I had got a party smashing away and breaking down two shops,

SECUNDERABAD 157

which had been cleared of goods, with the object of making a
gap to halt the flames which were roaring towards us. It was a
question as to whether we could get the work done in time.
I called to Bud to bring his hose over to where we were working
and to try and hold the fire before it could reach me. It was a
near thing, as suddenly I found myself alone in the ruins of the
shop I was trying to smash with the flames licking around me.

Luckily Bud came on the scene at this moment with his
hose and was able to get the water squirting in my direction.
Of course, he could not resist the temptation of giving me a
thorough drenching which amused the crowds which had by
now gathered in large numbers. However, I managed to get
out just in time and our combined efforts were now taking
effect. We had succeeded in making our gap large enough in
time to stop the furnace from spreading and had now got the
whole wretched calamity under control.

Only a few Europeans, including the Inspector of Police,
had rolled up by this time. This was not surprising as the
cantonment was quite a distance away from the bazaar. Being
late at night they would not hear about it as most of the
servants would have gone to bed.

By now we had got the situation completely under control
but the damage done was quite considerable. No less than seven
shops had been burnt out and the two I had knocked down
added to the scene of desolation. We were both very touched
when the Indians crowded around us and thanked us for what
we had done. The shopkeepers of the stores that had been
saved invited us to take anything we wanted from their stocks,
but needless to say we declined their kind offers, much to their
obvious surprise and astonishment. After satisfying ourselves
that there was no further danger from the fire which had by
now burnt itself out, we left the cheering Indians and returned
to the club where we decided to spend the night.

The next day we reported the matter officially and were
a little gratified when the brigadier sent for us and commended
us for our good work. It appeared that the police had got in a
word on our behalf.

A few mornings later my bearer came into the bungalow

158 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

in a very excited state. I asked him what the matter was and he
exclaimed, “Big snake, master, in my hut.’

‘Why can’t you kill it?’ I asked him.

‘No, master, he is in the roof. Very bad snake, a cobra.’

I hurried out of the bungalow over to the servants’ quarters.
All the women and children were standing outside in a very
agitated state. I went into the hut which was not very big and
which had a low ceiling. I looked around but could see nothing.

My bearer called out from outside, ‘Ooper, ooper, master,’
which means ‘look up’. This I did and there sure enough was a
huge cobra entwined in the rafters of the ceiling. All one could
see was the white belly of the snake winding in and out of the
wooden slats. I estimated it to be six to seven feet long. Hurry-
ing out I went back to the bungalow to get a revolver. I took
my .45 from its holster and quickly returned to the hut.
Everyone appeared very excited now. I peered up and could
see that it had moved around a little but found it difficult to
trace its body line for I was, of course, particularly anxious to
find its head. This was a little difficult because of the apparent
dimness inside after the bright sunshine.

I was still peering around when my bearer, who was
standing at the doorway, called out, ‘Look, master, look
behind!’ Swinging round I saw the big flanged head of the
snake curling out and downwards towards the back of my head
and swaying from side to side. It gave me quite a shock as I
thought it looked as if it was about to strike. I went down on
one knee, lifted my arm and quickly took careful aim at a
point in the throat. I fired. The explosion of a .45 in a small
room of that size was deafening and quite frightening but not
so frightening as what happened in the next second. The roof of
the hut just could not stand up to such a blast and the whole
lot came down with an enormous bang and a cloud of dust.

For a moment I was petrified as I felt sure that the giant
cobra was entwined around me. I was rooted to the ground
but the light of the sun had burst in and in a few seconds the
air had cleared and I could see. The little crowd outside
screamed excitedly as they dashed out of harm’s way, and as I
looked round I could see no sign of the snake at all. Apparently,

SECUNDERABAD 159

as the roof caved in, the cobra had dropped to the floor and ina
flash was out through the door, scattering the crowd and
disappearing into the compound.

What had happened I was not sure, as I felt certain that at
such a short range—not more than three feet—I could not
have missed. The only thing I could think was that the bullet
had passed right through the body of the snake but had missed
the spine and was not sufficiently damaging to stop its move-
ment. Everybody was very pleased that the snake had gone but
I was now left with the job of finding alternative accommoda-
tion for my bearer and his family!

The days of horsed cavalry were numbered and rumours
were rife in the Indian Cavalry as to which regiments were to
be the first to make up the new Tank Corps or Armoured Car
regiments. The idea of having to give up our horses and ceasing
to be a lancer regiment in the strict sense of the word was
difficult for many of us. Though realizing that it was inevitable,
those of us who had spent so much of our time and training with
horses did not relish making the change over to mechanization,
especially men like myself who knew next to nothing about the
internal combustion engine. In view of all the circumstances,
I decided to transfer to the Regular Army Reserve of officers.
It was in the 1930’s and at that time World War II did not
appear to be in the forseeable future.

In 1937 I went to Germany to attend the Leipzig Fair.
During this visit I noticed the amazing strides which had taken
place in German rearmament. The Hitler Youth movement
was conspicuous everywhere and large numbers of organized
groups of both sexes were to be seen drilling in the squares of
any large town. I had a feeling I was being watched the whole
time I was in the country and was held up for hours while my
papers were being scrutinized when I passed through Aachen
on my way back to England. I was happy to see the white
cliffs of Dover again.

The following year I took a villa in Montreux in Switzerland
where I stayed for several months. Montreux and the nearby
town of Vevey were a hotbed of foreign agents—especially
Russian ones—in those days and at the International Club,

160 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

where everybody met in the evening for a game of bridge, the
talk was always on politics. It was generally agreed that war
was inevitable and that it was only a matter of time before it
would break out.

One morning the Swiss police called on me at the villa and
very politely advised me to leave the country.

When I returned to England I was surprised to notice the
complete apathy on all sides towards German rearmament.
However, I had seen and heard so much while on the Continent
that I decided to apply to the War Office for a refresher course.
To this suggestion they agreed on the condition that I drew no
pay but paid all expenses out of my own pocket. I was so sure
at the time that war was certain that I accepted their offer and,
once again, found myself back in uniform on Salisbury Plain
under canvas.

In February 1939 His Majesty, the late King George VI,
held his last pre-war levee at Buckingham Palace which I was
privileged to attend. This particular levee was noticeable for
the fact that it was the last one on which full dress uniform and
court dress was worn by all officers attending.

An interesting incident occurred just previous to my going
to the palace. When I was getting dressed I discovered that my
bootmakers had made a mistake and sent me the wrong size of
Wellingtons. I was staying in Kensington at the time and my
bootmakers were in the West End. There was only one thing
to do and that was to get into the car and dash off to change
them. Time was getting short so I had to take the risk and drive
as fast as possible. I managed to get to the shop without trouble
but, on the way back, I was stopped by a police car in Knights-
bridge for speeding. I was in a sports coat and grey flannel
trousers when I explained to them that I was due at Buckingham
Palace in about twenty minutes. The police on this occasion
were most co-operative. Instead of booking me they told me to
jump in my car and follow them to my flat—they clearing the
road for me. They then waited for me again and cleared the
road for me back to Buckingham Palace and J arrived in time
with a few minutes to spare. A nice gesture which I appreciated
very much.

1

Another Voyage to the East

HEN the Second World war was declared, I was acting

VW as training officer at the Tank Depot at Chilwell,

Nottingham. This place had become important

because of its being the supply and maintenance depot for the

tank and armoured car regiments of the cavalry. It was obvious

that should war break out this would be the first large depot

to be hard pressed to maintain mechanical supplies. Under

immediate mobilization it would be the first depot to be brought
up to war strength and to start operating right away.

The troops stationed there consisted mostly of technicians,
store-keepers and clerks and it was decided that they were to be
trained also as soldiers capable of defending their own stores
and workshops. Brigadier L. Williams, who later became chief
Ordnance officer, as Lieut.-General Sir Leslie Williams, was
in command of Chilwell when war broke out, and by the very
nature of his command he was one of the first officers of the
British Army to go over to France. His job was to site the depots
for the mechanized Army which would shortly be landing in
France.

He was called to Whitehall a few days before the war and
the mobilization of the Chilwell Depot was left to Captain
Carter and myself, the only two other officers there. What a
harassing and exacting task it was. When general mobilization
was ordered by the Government, regular reservists from every
part of England, Scotland and Wales began to arrive at
Chilwell Depot in ever-increasing numbers. Motor mechanics,
engineers, fitters, carpenters and skilled craftsmen of every
trade came pouring in by the hundred.

K 161

162 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

Our job was to get them sorted out into complete operational
self-contained companies, ready to work as independent units
within a matter of a few days. Our plan was to clear some of the
bigger sheds of all stores and equipment and mark out in chalk
large squares. Inside these, written on the store floor, was the
composition of a complete workshop unit, or a field park
company. These units would consist of a number of mechanics,
engineers, fitters and so on and, as the jobs were filled and the
company brought up to strength with its officers and N.C.O.s,
then that unit would be complete and would organize itself
within the chalked square.

As the men arrived, according to their occupations, so they
would be detailed to their jobs in the various units. When a
unit was completed then the men would draw their uniforms,
kit and equipment. N.C.O.s would be appointed according to
requirements. This was not so difficult as it may appear as
many of the reservists reporting for duty had been N.C.O.s and,
in some cases, had not long been out of the Army. In forty-
eight hours it was gratifying to see that we had already estab-
lished quite a number of completed units. This work of
mobilizing was carried out by Carter and myself for three days
and nights without sleep or rest which was pretty exhausting.
By this time, some reserve officers had reported for duty and we
were able to get them to relieve us for some much needed sleep.

Just after we had completed mobilization, which took all
the week, Brigadier Williams returned from the War Office
and made one of his important snap decisions which was to
have far-reaching results throughout the Army. He had
received an intimation from the Women’s Voluntary Services
that women and girls were coming forward in large numbers
and that they were anxious to help in any way they could.
Would he be prepared to employ them at the depot? They said
they were not getting much co-operation from the Army
authorities elsewhere. The offer came from Derby and, after
discussing it for a few minutes, he decided right away to accept
their offer. He immediately gave me instructions to go at once
to Derby and bring back all the available women and girls
they were prepared to let us have.

ANOTHER VOYAGE TO THE EAST 163

I drove over straight away and saw the lady commandant.
She was thrilled with our enthusiasm and said she would
arrange a party of a hundred girls for me to take back almost
at once. Within two hours she had them paraded, complete
with their kits and four motor-coaches ready to move off. I
thanked her and in a few minutes I was in my car leading the
first convoy of women recruits from Derby to Nottingham.

As we drove into the depot at Chilwell the troops turned
out in their hundreds to welcome us. There was, of course,
the usual good-natured humour and banter and I came in for
more than my fair share. Remarks such as, ‘Here comes the
Rajah of Chilwell with his harem’, ‘Bluebeard the second’,
‘What’s he going to do with them all?’ and ‘I bet he’s dated
for the rest of the war!’ Even the brigadier was a little perturbed
at the size of the party.

The next job was to get them billeted, and this caused us
a bit of a headache; but by six o’clock that same evening we
had them fixed up. The civilian population of Nottingham
co-operated with me in helping to get them into billets in a
truly magnificent manner. The following day they were on
parade and had been posted to the various departments. The
way those girls adapted themselves to their new lives has
always been remembered with admiration by me, and I was
immediately converted to the idea of women in the services
from then on.

It turned out to be a master-stroke on the part of the
brigadier and myself, as from that moment the demand was
greater than the supply and we had managed to get in first.

I was at Chilwell for six weeks, three before the war started
and three after. Without a doubt those last three weeks were
the busiest I ever experienced in the whole of the war. I had
the satisfaction, however, of feeling that I had done something
towards getting the most important depot in England in running
order to carry out the heavy work it was destined to do.

In spite of the efforts of Brigadier Williams to keep me on
his staff, I received orders a few days later to join a machine-
gun regiment—the Middlesex Regiment—which was shortly
embarking for France. They were stationed at Gosport, Hants,

164 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

and I was to go immediately. I drove off by car and reported
to the adjutant the following morning. The C.O. greeted me
and said he was pleased to have an officer with war experience.

The regiment was under orders for France and was expected
to embark in about six days. In the meantime, it had to become
mechanized but had only six vehicles instead of a hundred and
twenty. I was detailed, with one or two other officers, to get
started on the job of finding the remainder as soon as possible.
The idea was to go into the highways and byways of Gosport
and Portsmouth commandeering any suitable vans and
lorries. With a small staff of junior officers and N.C.O.s we
proceeded to go through the shops and businesses in the High
Street to find what we could. If the baker had three vans we
took two, if the greengrocer had two vans we commandeered
one and so on. In the incredibly short time of three days we
had collected a hundred and twenty vehicles. As they were
driven into the regimental lines they were immediately over-
hauled and painted grey and within a week they were lined up
on parade in running order. Their road-worthiness was doubt-
ful, but we had also fitted out a travelling workshop to carry
out running repairs.

On 21 September, 1939, the first fully motorized machine-
gun unit in England embarked for France.

Six weeks later I received orders to take a draft of men from
England across France to Marseilles and embark on a troopship
for the Far East. When I reported on board I found orders
awaiting me to the effect that I was officer in charge of eight
hundred men and forty women in drafts to join their various
units throughout the East and Far East. The forty women were
soon taken from us, much to our sorrow, as they were destined
for Gibraltar, our first port of call, which we made in only a
few hours. The troopship on this occasion was very different
from the one mentioned in the opening chapter of this book,
as this time it was a brand new one which went by the name of
S.S. Andes and was to have sailed for South America on her
maiden voyage in October 1939. The advent of the war had
caused her to be commandeered and here she was, a troopship,
on her maiden voyage to the Far East instead. There had not

ANOTHER VOYAGE TO THE EAST 165

even been time to convert her and she was still in the actual
condition of a first-class passenger liner.

We were in no way crowded and started the voyage in the
acme of comfort. There were comparatively few men to each
mess deck and because the ship started from Marseilles and was
already in the Mediterranean the threat of seasickness, which
one always associates with troopships, did not arise.

The dining saloon, decorated in Tudor style, was left
untouched and became the officers mess, complete with chefs,
stewards and wine waiters; everything, in fact, needed for a
luxury cruise. She was beautifully stocked with food and the
wine list contained a wonderful selection. It was just what
would be expected of a R.M.S.P. liner equipped for her maiden
voyage to the Andes in peacetime. This was much more to my
liking than any troopship on which I had ever been.

I have always been a great believer in having the best
when it is available, especially in war time, because, from
experience, I knew how quickly things can change. On looking
through the wine list I soon discovered that there was a special
vintage champagne for the maiden voyage—a 1929 Bollinger,
specially bottled for their centenary year. One or two of us
decided this might be better for us than morning coffee at
eleven o’clock and we actually had this every morning for the
entire voyage. It cost ten shillings a bottle which was cheap
enough between the four of us. I have never regretted that
little extravagance as I knew that opportunities such as that
come only once in a lifetime.

The forty young nurses whom we had put off at Gib had
been the only women aboard. When they had gone, which was
probably just as well although we were sorry to see them leave
us so soon, we were left a bachelor ship of just under a thousand
men. There was a delightful swimming pool on the upper deck
which became very popular. A timetable was posted and each
regimental draft was allotted a specific time. Once again boat
drill became the most important activity aboard and again we
had the usual enemy submarine scares.

Our next call was at Malta where we landed a small draft
but no mental cases this time! The difference between the two

166 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

troopships described in this book was vast indeed. Whereas the
one was just about as bad as a troopship can be, the other was so
luxurious as to be almost unbelievable. Being O.C. troops, I
had a suite consisting of bedroom, bathroom and sitting-room,
which I also used as my office. The bed was a real one and not a
bunk, with the room furnished accordingly. The bathroom had
everything and was done in beautiful green tiling. The suite
was on the top deck and was as comfortable as could be. Some
day I hope to occupy that same suite again—on a luxury cruise
to South America perhaps?

We bathed and basked in the lovely sunshine of the
beautiful Mediterranean and the war seemed very, very far
away. Suddenly, however, the alarm sounded for boat stations
and we were quickly brought back to reality. This time, though,
it was only a precautionary measure because we were approach-
ing the mouth of the Suez Canal. The entrance to it was
naturally considered a danger spot as ships were forced to slow
up and wait their turn to enter Port Said. Easy targets for
enemy submarines should they be about.

Although I had passed through the Canal many times going
to and from India between the wars, it was strange and
interesting to see how history can be repeated. In each war I
travelled through it within a few weeks of war starting. Once
again the familiar sight of Australian troops greeted me
stretched out along its banks.

We left a small draft behind at Port Said and sailed slowly
through the Canal. Again came the humorous exchange of
cat-calls, jokes and leg-pulling. I had heard them all before but
it seemed only the other day instead of over twenty years ago.
At first glance everything looked much the same—there were
troops everywhere. Then suddenly I was struck with the striking
difference between the two scenes spanning the twenty odd
years. It was the mechanization of the armies. Gone were the
lines of shackled horses of the cavalry regiments, the mule
carts, the pack mules and our old friend of the East, the camel,
the everlasting ‘oont’. Their places had been taken by trucks,
lorries, vans, motor-cars, armoured cars and tanks. I remember
so well the strange mixed feelings which I experienced as I

ANOTHER VOYAGE TO THE EAST 167

surveyed the changed scene from the ship’s rails. Yes, the
adventure and romance of war had gone for ever, and from
now on it would always be something grim and sinister.

But the job in hand soon demanded my whole attention. I
landed drafts at Port Said, Suez and Aden and, except for the
picking up of an odd body here and there we were gradually
expending our load.

As we crossed the Indian Ocean we had one or two sub-
marine scares but we soon picked up a naval escort from Aden
which gave one that little extra feeling of security. The escort
added interest by giving us something to watch and while
away the time with on that watery stretch to Bombay. The sight
of that wonderful port has always given me pleasure, while the
coconut palms stretching along its coastline seem to wave a
welcome to its visitors. I think the real reason for that feeling
of friendly welcome which appeared more pronounced in
Bombay than in any other Eastern port, was the crowd of
beaming servants, bearers, cooks, kitmagahs and orderlies,
which was always there to greet their sahibs and memsahibs
of the Indian Army, Civil and other Services, as well as the
civilians on their return from leave in England. Without a
doubt the friendliest port in the world.

We did not stay long, however, but only allowed time for
another large draft to be landed. It seemed strange for me to be
staying on a ship after it had reached Bombay. I had never
previously gone farther and I watched the port disappear with
deep feelings.

Our next stop was Colombo in Ceylon and this time a
small draft was put ashore but, as we were not sailing until the
following morning, we were able to spend the evening in the
port. What good use we made of the break, too! We went
straight to that fine hotel of those days, the Gall Face, and had
a jolly dinner party. In that strange way which always happens
to me, we were soon surrounded by some cheerful company.
Gaiety was the keynote and after dinner we got permission to
take some English women and girls back to show them our
lovely ship. The party was held in my suite and what a jolly
one it was! Champagne was still available and what an

168 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

amazing drink it is to make parties go with a swing. The
highlight of the evening, though, was when some wag took the
girls into the bathroom to show them all the wonderful fittings
and to demonstrate how the bidet worked. The result was that
boiling water squirted up to the ceiling and the place became
flooded very quickly because it was too hot to turn the taps off.
Finally I had to go in myself dressed in oilskins to turn the
wretched thing off. Finally the party came to an end in the
early hours. The business of getting those women off the ship
by rope ladder in the dead of night with a high sea running
became too precarious to be even a joke. However, all ended
well and we got them to shore safely. Getting back to the ship
ourselves was equally precarious but we managed it without
mishap.

Our next stop was Penang, where we deposited more troops
and then we entered the wonderful Straits of Sumatra. What a
fantastic sight this is! The lovely scenery of the hills with the
jungles of Sumatra on our right and the equally amazing
beauty of the Malayan Peninsula away to our left. Presently
the island of Singapore began to show up in the distance with
the sky-scrapers of Cathay Buildings and Raffles Hotel promi-
nent on the skyline. As we sailed into the port the great difference
between the East and the Far East was at once seen. The
Chinese look of Singapore contrasted noticeably with the Indian
look of Bombay. The ship soon docked and a large draft for
the Argyle and Sutherland Regiment was put ashore. We were
staying for two days and I was glad to be able to see Singapore
for the first time.

What an amazing piece of foresight it was on the part of
Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles to buy this, one time almost
uninhabited, island in 1819 and enable the British to build it
into the great port that it is today—probably the most important
centre of air and sea communication in the Far East, and a
junction between the Indian and Pacific Oceans. It is about the
size of the Isle of Wight and connected to the mainland at
Johore Bahru by a causeway about a mile long. The town of
Singapore lies on the south side of the island and has a large
dock capable of taking fifty ships at anchor.

ANOTHER VOYAGE TO THE EAST 169

As I wandered through its Chinese streets I was impressed
with its appearance of wealth and colour and the whole scene
of bustling activity. It was strange to think that this energetic
man, Raffles, died at the early age of forty-five, worn out, no
doubt, by his arduous life in the tropics on behalf of his country.
He gave much, as he lost four out of his five children who died
of tropical diseases.

That evening we had a party at the Raffles Hotel and the
next day visited the salt flats which are so important to the
Far East. Altogether a most interesting and enjoyable interlude
in a colourful voyage.

We continued ovr journey, first to Hong Kong, where we
again landed several drafts. Then we went on to Shanghai, our
final destination. Shanghai I found particularly interesting.
Here was a large port which had developed much later than
Singapore. It was not until 1842 that the Chinese agreed to
open up a number of “Treaty Ports’ where foreign merchants
could settle and live in their own way under their own laws.
An admirable idea. Of these Treaty Ports Shanghai was the
most important. Two foreign controlled areas, the International
Settlement and the French Concession, grew up adjoining the
old Chinese city until the port handled more than half the
entire trade of China.

The International Settlement was an outstanding example
of a self-governing and practically independent city. It seems a
strange and deplorable thing that this great port has been
allowed to cease functioning and that China has once again
fallen back on its old way of excluding all foreigners from its
territories. How any country in these enlightened days can
hope to prosper without an international outlook generally is
beyond comprehension, but only time will tell.

We sailed up the Whangpoo River, that tributary of the
great river, the Yangtze, and docked. The panorama of those
waters was indeed an unforgettable sight. We came in for a
close-up view of the almost unbelievable Chinese junks with
the red and brown sails, their high after-decks crowded with
men, women and children and laden with their fabulous
cargoes.

170 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

I handed over the last of my charges, a draft of the Sea-
forths, and, in a short time, we began the return journey. I
was under the impression that I might be picking up various
drafts returning to England but when the ship docked once
more at Hong Kong I found a surprise awaiting me. I received
orders to disembark and report for regimental duty to the
machine-gun regiment, the Middlesex Regiment, which was
stationed in Hong Kong. And so ended one of the most com-
fortable voyages I have ever experienced and certainly the
most interesting.

14

The Siege of Hong Kong

which had sprung up during the last century. It was

ceded to Great Britain in January 1841. It was then
a desolate island and inhabited by a very small population of
Chinese fishermen. After repeated efforts by Lord Napier, who
was His Majesty’s Chief Superintendent of Trade in Canton
in 1834, to improve relations with the Chinese authorities it
was left to a Captain Charles Elliot, R.N., who succeeded him,
to carry on the difficult task. For five years he continued
negotiations while the British merchants became more and
more difficult. On 29 January, 1841, Captain Elliot finally
concluded arrangements and the concession of the island and
harbour of Hong Kong went to the British Crown. The most
notable declaration was that, ‘Her Majesty’s Government has
sought for no privilege in China exclusively for the advantage
of the British flag to the exclusion of the subjects, citizens and
ships of foreign Powers that may resort to Her Majesty’s
possession.’

Sir Henry Pottinger who replaced Captain Elliot finally
concluded the cession of Hong Kong which was confirmed by
the Treaty of Nanking on 29 August, 1842. The actual charter
bore the date of 5 April, 1843. The work of building up the
new colony then began in earnest. In particular, the colony
was brought under its own laws, based on English law, which
put an end to the informal arrangement made by Captain
Elliot. The early colonists had many obstacles to overcome.
The new settlement was ravaged by fires, the houses levelled by
typhoons, which they had never previously experienced, and

171

Hes KONG was another of those great Eastern ports

172 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

the garrisoned troops struck down by fevers and cholera. In
The Times of 17 December 1844 there appeared the following
comment:

‘The place has nothing to recommend it if we except the
excellent harbour. The site of the new town of Victoria—
named after Queen Victoria the Good—is most objection-
able, there being scarcely level ground enough for the
requisite buildings and the high hills, which overhang the
locality, shut out the southerly winds and render the place
exceeding hot, close and unhealthy.’

The peninsula of Kowloon which is on the mainland
opposite the island of Hong Kong and separated by only twelve
hundred yards of water, was ceded to Great Britain in 1860
together with the surrounding islands, including Stonecutters,
Aplichau, Round, Middle, Lan Tau and other islets. In 1898
an agreement with the Chinese Government was concluded for
the extension to the area adjoining Kowloon and known as the
New Territories. This also included Miss Bay and Deep Bay.
These areas were leased for a period of ninety-nine years with a
stipulation that the City of Kowloon should come under the
jurisdiction of the Chinese officials. In 1899 this condition was
abrogated and the area came under British rule. With the
changing face of Chinese politics, it is difficult to see what will
be the end of all treaties, but ‘sufficient unto the day is the evil
thereof’ and in the meantime the colony presses on.

To the newcomer, the first sight of Hong Kong is most
impressive. As ships approach the island from the south there,
silhouetted against a northern sky with the sun shining full on
its face, stands Victoria Peak. This is a mountain rising right
out of the centre of the island which is only about half the
size of the Isle of Wight. The harbour lies on the north side
of the island facing the mainland. The ship enters the Lyemun
Pass on the east side and as she turns sharply to the west into the
harbour the full picture of a thriving, bustling port bursts upon
her with a startling suddenness. There dashing to and fro are
the hundreds of craft of every description—junks, sampans,
yachts, motor-boats, full-size ocean-going liners from America

THE SIEGE OF HONG KONG 173

or Japan—and it is to all appearances the busiest port in the
world. Should, however, the ship enter the harbour by night
then the scene is almost unbelievable in its fantastic beauty,
which is world renowned. The reason for this is that the whole
mountain side of the Peak of Victoria is covered with houses,
buildings, roads and streets, and the concentrated lights from
all these, together with those of the water front, presents a
fairyland scene which surpasses anything I have ever seen any-
where else in this world.

What makes this amazing scene so fantastic when compared
with other ports is the enormous amount of traffic which goes
on continuously night and day between the island of Hong
Kong and the city of Kowloon on the mainland. Motor-boats,
motor sampans and small boats of all descriptions with their
lights blazing, rather like motor-cars, dash to and from the
island leaving phosphorescent streaks to add to the colourful
panorama. To my mind, Hong Kong by night is surely one of
the great sights of the world.

Japan was not yet in the war and to outward appearances
Hong Kong was not in the war either. During the 1914-18
war, Hong Kong enjoyed complete immunity as it was never
attacked and remained throughout the headquarters of the
Royal Navy’s Far Eastern Command.

It was still only 1939, nearly two years before Japan
decided to attack Pearl Harbour and so throw in her lot on the
side of Germany. The result was that Hong Kong was rather
like an ostrich with its head in the sand. The war in Europe
appeared to be a long way off and one got the impression that
here people were out of touch with modern warfare.

However, when I reported for duty, although I thought
things a little unreal, I found life with a regiment very pleasant.
Being stationed in Hong Kong was surely the soldier’s dream of
what an overseas garrison should be. It was a British colony
with a large number of British people together with a Chinese
population who were very definitely satisfied with the British
way of life. They fitted into the life of the colony and this made
things so much easier for the soldier. There was plenty of
female companionship which helped to make the social life

174 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

gay and pleasant. Sport was undoubtedly the keynote of life
in Hong Kong. I do not think there is another spot in the world
where practically every form of sport is so cheap, close at hand
and convenient to the indulger.

We played polo three days a week on quite good suitable
walers and Chinese country-breds, in very lovely surroundings.
Horse racing was easily the most comfortable I have ever
experienced anywhere. Here was the only racecourse where
one can sit down to lunch and watch the races without having
to get up from the table—to my mind a very nice idea. It was a
yachtsman’s paradise, because the boats were fantastically
cheap when compared with other places in the world. Besides
this, the selection of bays to which one could sail were numerous
and interesting. The golf club at Fanling was a most delightful
course and, having been designed by Scots, was undoubtedly
a fine test of the game.

The troops were well catered for with a fine football league
and the standard of play was high. It was always amusing to
see players straight out from home with big reputations get
their first shock when playing against the Chinese teams for
the first time. The Chinese are magnificent ball players and
I have never seen their leading team beaten by a purely regi-
mental side. It usually took the best combined British team to
hold them. Life was very pleasant indeed.

I did not stay long with the regiment and was appointed to
the staff of the G.O.C. at headquarters. In this important post
one soon became aware that things were not all they appeared
on the surface. There was an undercurrent of tension which was
gradually coming to a head between Japan and Great Britain
with America apparently still looking on. |

About 7 a.m. on Monday, 8 December 1941, I was
awakened with a cup of tea brought in by my Chinese servant.
I was actually shaving when, just before eight o’clock, there was
a loud explosion, followed by a number of others. Hurrying to
the window, I looked out across the harbour. There, in the
direction of Kai Tak Aerodrome, I could see fire and smoke
rising from where the explosions were obviously taking place.

At that moment my servant rushed into the room in great

THE SIEGE OF HONG KONG 175

excitement. This was the first time I had ever seen an excited
Chinese.

‘Master,’ he said. ‘Japanese he make war.’

I looked round half surprised but, in the next moment,
Captain Bird, who lived on the same floor, burst into my room
and yelled, ‘Freddie, the Japs have bombed Kai Tak Aero-
drome. I’m off to H.Q. at once.’

‘Right-ho, Dicky,’ I said. ‘Pll follow you as soon as ’'m
dressed.’

Tension in Hong Kong had been steadily mounting. The
three or four days before had been hectic with preparations.
Since midday on Sunday, the previous day, all troops, including
the local volunteers, had been at their war stations.

I was a staff officer in Fortress Headquarters, the nerve
centre from which General Maltby and his staff controlled
operations, and had been hard at it for the past week. From
intelligence information received, we had been expecting things
to happen at any moment. Strangely enough, however, one is
usually surprised when they actually do! We had been continu-
ally on the alert, even when not on duty, so it was only a matter
of minutes before we reported back to the battle box, as G.H.Q.
was generally known. Our immediate job was to see that all and
sundry were at their respective posts, for we expected things to
happen now that the balloon really had gone up. In the next
few hours staff officers had covered practically the whole
island, checking that everyone was on his particular job and
knew exactly what to do.

At eight o’clock that Monday morning, we had our baptism
of fire from thirty-two aircraft which came in suddenly without
warning and raided the airport, causing considerable damage.
Our complete complement of planes was damaged and put out
of action.

At half-past ten on that same morning, the forward troops
of three Japanese divisions crossed the New Territories frontier
and by midday were advancing on a broad front towards
Kowloon.

For two days the forward troops of the Royal Scots and the
14th Punjab Regiment delayed that advance by covering the

176 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

Royal Engineers who were blowing up prepared demolitions
on the only two roads which led southward towards Kowloon.

A little later when I visited Taipo I saw the effectiveness of
the engineers’ work. Huge masses of hillside had been hurled
on to the railway line which runs from Canton to Kowloon and
lengths of rail were twisted into fantastic shapes. The Shatin
Tunnel and some nearby bridges had also been blown up. The
tunnel had completely caved in and we hoped that it would be
out of use for some considerable time, in spite of what the Japs
might accomplish with Chinese labour.

After inflicting severe losses on the enemy by ambush and
patrol action, our forward elements withdrew to our main
defence line which ran along the hills north of Kowloon from
Gindrinkers Bay to Port Shelter.

On this line we had hoped to be able to hold the enemy but,
unfortunately, the odds against us were too great. We were
never quite certain that an enemy attack would not be made
by seaborne troops against the Island of Hong Kong so we
had to keep at least half the garrison on the island to guard
against this threat. For two days on end the Japanese consoli-
dated by bringing up fresh troops and artillery.

All this time, however, the Jap columns, as they advanced,
had been excellent targets for our gunners. In several cases I
heard of enemy troops being caught in close formation and the
fire of our heavy and medium artillery had taken a big toll.
These guns were manned mostly by Indian soldiers who did
splendid work under the most difficult of conditions, being
continually under intense artillery and air bombardment. In
one particular case a 4.5 howitzer battery went into action over
open sights against machine-guns at a range of three hundred
yards or less. The Indian gunners gave a great show and dis-
played the coolness of veteran campaigners.

The battle was moving with a speed which was difficult
for even us to follow and then, with startling suddenness, our
left flank collapsed. The Royal Scots were overrun by the
enemy, apparently completely surprised by the new methods of
infiltration which the Japanese had adopted. This they did
mostly at night with devastating results to the Scots.

THE SIEGE OF HONG KONG 177

Two or three days of absolute nightmare followed as bad
news poured in from all positions. It was difficult for the
general and his staff to keep pace with the changing situations.
Certain localities were taken and retaken but it was always the
Japs who seemed finally to hold the disputed position. They
pushed on remorselessly and there were always plenty of them
to follow up. The Indian regiment, the Rajputs, were doing a
fine job of work near the Shing Mun Reservoir, where they beat
off repeated attacks by the enemy who rightly considered this
one of the vital points of the battle.

The mainland brigade were in real danger of being isolated
as the only road through to Kowloon was threatened with
being cut. The general now had to make his most important
decision; should he continue fighting with the idea of defending
his main line or should he try to save the troops and guns from
this obvious disaster. He rightly decided on the latter course
and so gave the order for the total withdrawal from Kowloon
to the island of Hong Kong to be carried out immediately.
First, under cover of a reserve line held by companies of
Punjabi Rajputs, Royal Scots and Canadians, and then by a
very gallant rearguard action by the Punjabis, the evacuation
of Kowloon to the island was accomplished. The R.N.V.R.
manned launches of all descriptions, including those used for
stores carried by the R.A.S.C. and the Navy helped with a
couple of destroyers and motor torpedo-boats.

All night long we laboured at the ferry pier point assisting
the Rajputs, Punjabis, Mule Corps, gunners and Royal Scots
to get across to the island. They had fought their way back to a
certain point where the Japs thought we would hold the line but,
after putting on a false front of defensive action, we slipped out
without the Japanese actually following up. A certain amount of
credit must go to the Chinese admiral, Chan Chak, who, as
soon as he heard what was happening, went out among the
Chinese on the waterfront and quickly organized a fleet of
motor-sampans, those Chinese flat-bottomed river boats which
are used for all purposes, and soon had his fleet scurrying back-
wards and forwards with stores, guns, ammunition and
equipment. It is a significant thing that only two guns were

L

178 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

lost in the whole of that withdrawal. The evacuation was
completed by dawn.

When the troops were back in Hong Kong there was no
real complication as this was all part of the plan—the only
thing was that we had to carry it out in more of a hurry than
we had hoped. They all had their respective stations to go to
and, owing to the smallness of the island, it did not take them
long to get there.

After four more days, from 13 to 17 December, the Japanese
set to work to try to crush the resistance of the garrison in a
methodical way. This was done by both high and low level
dive bombing and artillery bombardment from Kowloon, which
was now in their hands, and Hong Kong island was completely
cut off from the mainland of China. The civilian morale on
the island was admirable. Civil Defence Services functioned
well under the most difficult circumstances. The air raid
precaution tunnels and shelters were used with common sense,
and civilian casualties were far fewer than we had dared to
hope. There is no doubt in my mind that there are few civilian
populations in the whole world who are less likely to panic
under such conditions than the Chinese. Their famed non-
chalance and fantastic demeanour stood them in good stead.

The first unusual happening was that the Japanese sent over
a peace mission asking the Governor (who, on the commence-
ment of war, automatically became commander-in-chief of the
garrison) to surrender the colony. On receiving a reply in the
negative, the Japanese once more resumed the offensive by
hammering at the Hong Kong defences. Armour piercing guns
knocked out concrete machine-gun positions. Artillery positions
were shelled and dive bombed.

The next unusual happening occurred when a huge fire was
started on the oil installations and, choosing a fine moonless
night with a high tide, the Japs started landing in largenumbers.
This they were able to do under cover of the great pall of black
smoke which had descended on the island from the fire of the
oil tanks. They chose the highly industrial district of Tackoo
from which they could be only moderately shelled by our guns.

They came across in ever-increasing numbers and went

THE SIEGE OF HONG KONG 179

straight for the line of mountains which formed the central
spine of the island. Successful motor torpedo-boat attacks and
accurate shelling claimed a heavy toll, but still they came in
their hundreds.

The fighting continued for another seven or eight days
against an impossible situation which deteriorated rapidly.
Finally the Japanese split the unfortunate garrison right through
the centre of the island. Several units were completely isolated
and fought with outstanding bravery till all were killed,
wounded or taken prisoner. Valuable magazines, ordnance
depots, food stores and the main water reservoir and pumping
stations were lost or access to them was cut off. There were
countless acts of gallantry which came to light later: one when
a major of the Middlesex Regiment held the top of a hill for
a whole week with a mixed force of only twenty men; another
when a gunner subaltern engaged the enemy over open sights
when the rest of the battery were casualties, and again when a
Punjabi havildar continued to engage the enemy with his light
automatic while severely wounded and bleeding to death, his
arm having been blown off above the elbow.

During the battle one was continually coming up against
surprises of all kinds. In my duties as Staff Officer there were
times when, because of varying reports of certain episodes, I
would be sent out to find exactly what was happening and
report accordingly. On one occasion there had been some
heavy shelling at a certain road on the Peak. I went along to
find out just how bad things were and to see what could be
done. When J arrived on the scene it was just one of those
ghastly spectacles of war. Japanese shells from one of the
largest guns on the mainland firing across the harbour to the
island had fallen directly on a group of houses occupied by
Chinese servants. The sight of the terrible carnage was too
bad to describe in detail. Suffice to say that pieces of dead and
wounded men, women and children were everywhere, owing
to the tremendous blast from those large shells, but there,
right among the debris of the dead and dying, were two young
English girls who had quickly hurried to the spot and had got
down to a wonderful job of work. They were tending the

180 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

wounded with all the calm and efficiency of experienced nurses.
Imagine my surprise when I recognized them as two well-
known bright young girls who had never been known to do
very much except attend parties most days of the week for the
past two years. They were two very pretty sisters of around
twenty years of age and were to be seen most evenings in the
various hotels and restaurants dining and dancing with groups
of officers of a particular British regiment.

As I appeared on the horrific scene, they greeted me in
their usual bright and cheery way and, although they were
covered from head to foot in blood-stained clothing, quickly
asked me to get what medical supplies I could. They had formed
a casual ward in a nearby house and had everything under
control. They knew it was no good trying to get the wounded
to the already overcrowded hospitals and had organized their
own casualty station. It was a wonderful thing to see such
pluck and determination but those of us who have travelled
far and wide know how we can rely on our British women
folk in emergencies. I never saw Mitze and Lena again during
those tragic days and often wondered how they fared during
the years of their internment.

For seven more days fighting under these terrible and
disastrous conditions took place all over the island. The main
centres of resistance were in the heart of the City of Victoria,
and in the peninsula of Stanley.

At last, on Christmas Day 1941, the Japanese broke through
the centre of the town of Victoria and poured into the city
from all sides. At this point, the Governor, mindful of his
responsibilities to the Chinese population who had remained
comparatively calm through this one-sided battle, gave the
order to cease fire.

At 3.15 p.m. that afternoon, the order went out from
Fortress Headquarters to all commands at Hong Kong that
the Governor was surrendering the island colony to the
Japanese.

i)

Escape

I had given thought to the possibility of trying to make an

escape after the island had actually fallen to the Japanese.
That this was the inevitable outcome there was unhappily
little doubt. I had discussed the idea with the G.S.O. 1 and it
was decided that three of us should make an attempt to get
away in order to try to assist in the escape of the one-legged
Chinese Admiral Chan Chak and a Chinese colonel, S. K. Yee,
who had been lent to us from the Chinese Government for
certain intelligence work. It was hoped at one time that they
could be got out by plane, but as we had none from the moment
the Japanese attacked this was quite obviously out of the
question.

After the surrender of Hong Kong on Christmas Day 1941,
all officers and men of the entire garrison had been ordered to
report in to Murray Barracks which were situated in the centre
of the island and to consider themselves prisoners of war of the
Japanese. The orders went that should any officer or man fail
to put down his arms or try to effect an escape, he would be
shot on sight.

The Japanese soldiers had been closing in on all sides.
They were making their way to the centre of the town and in an
incredibly short time the place was flooded with them. They
had taken over G.H.Q. and the general and all staff officers
were now prisoners of war. The Japs were rounding up British
and Indian troops as prisoners and the collapse was complete.
It was under these circumstances that Captain Peter Mac-
Millan, a staff officer like myself, and I decided to take our

181

Sim time before and during the battle of Hong Kong

182 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

chance and contact the Chinese admiral, Chan Chak, with the
object of trying to make an escape.

After some difficulty we managed to find him with his
A.D.C. Henry Hsu and told them that although we had no set
plans we were prepared to try to escape with them to the
Chinese mainland. They quickly agreed in their calm way and
we set off by car for the other side of the island. There was the
admiral, the Chinese colonel, S. K. Yee, Henry Hsu, Peter
MacMillan and myself, with Henry driving the car. It was a
hazardous journey as Japanese patrols were everywhere but,
owing to the nerve and ingenuity of Henry Hsu, who just
shouted ‘banzai’ and loudly sounded his hooter at any Japs who
attempted to stop us we managed to get through. We were
sniped at continually on the way but luck was on our side and
nobody was hit.

Our immediate idea was to get to the small harbour of
Aberdeen which is on the other side of the island. Here we hoped
to find some kind of boat or even to contact a Chinese junk with
the aim of getting away quickly to the open sea. When we
arrived at Aberdeen the scene was one of complete hopeless-
ness as everything in the way of craft had been sunk and the
Chinese junks appeared deserted. The harbour had been
shelled heavily and was, in fact, still under spasmodic fire as the
Japs were taking no chances. However, after a search among the
derelict boats we were able to find a small motor-boat which
was undamaged. It was about twenty-five feet long with a
small engine capable of doing not more than six knots an hour.
We decided to try our luck with this small vessel.

We were able to collect a volunteer crew of Chinese and
one or two odd naval ratings from a store which had been
completely overlooked by the Japanese owing to its obscure
situation. In a very short time we had filled the boat with
rifles, ammunition, food, water and petrol. During the time we
were loading it we had to keep watch for Japanese patrols
which were continually passing to and fro on motor-cycles and
forced us to run for cover in a precarious but exciting manner.

During the time this was going on we were joined by five
others who had suddenly decided to try their luck. They were

ESCAPE 183

another British officer, a police officer, an Air Force officer and
two civilians. We formed a party and hurriedly discussed plans.
We would keep in hiding until darkness and then try to sneak
out to sea and make for some deserted part of the China coast
on the mainland. From then on we would trust to luck to get
into an unoccupied part of China.

Owing to the increase in the number of Jap patrols we
began to get worried about our chances of getting away.
Finally we decided to try to make the break now although it
was still light, and would remain so for at least thirty to forty
minutes. Altogether fourteen of us crowded into the motor
boat and, awaiting our opportunity, we suddenly started up the
motor, which seemed to make a dreadful noise, and were at
last away. We had cleared the harbour and had been going
only about twenty minutes when we were spotted by a Jap
sentry who immediately opened fire. This drew the attention
of a Japanese machine-gun post which in turn opened fire at
us from about twelve hundred yards. Their first burst was just
short of the target which caused the water to splash only a few
yards away, thereby giving them their range. With the second
burst they succeeded in hitting the petrol tank which made the
engine give out immediately. The boat stopped and we were
now in serious trouble as we had become a sitting target. The
next burst was disastrous as several of the crew were hit and
the Norwegian engineer who was actually steering the boat was
killed outright. There was little we could do now and the only
chance left to us was to jump over the side of the boat and hope
that a few of us might survive and reach the small island on
the other side of the channel.

To all appearances this was not occupied by Japanese or,
in fact, by anybody or anything. Not everybody had decided
to leave the boat and swim for it but among those who had
were the one-legged admiral, his henchman, Henry Hsu,
MacMillan, Goring, Robinson the police officer, Max Oxford
the Air Force officer and myself. There we were in the water
swimming away for dear life with two machine-guns firing at
us for all they were worth. Some of us were hit as we swam. The
admiral who had unscrewed his wooden leg and left it in the

184 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

boat, was hit in the arm and, as he swam, left a trail of blood
behind him. I was hit in the nose by a richochet off the water,
luckily causing a flesh wound only, but making it bleed pro-
fusely. Some others of the crew were hit and never reached the
island.

Colonel Yee and one or two others had stayed in the boat,
apparently because they could not swim.

However, a party of us at last reached the island and I was
thankful to be able to pull myself out of the water on to the
rocks where I flopped down completely exhausted. We lay
about trying:to recover but just when things seemed to quieten
down a little and the everlasting rattle of the machine-guns
petered out, the Japanese suddenly decided to shell our island
with a field gun as they had no doubt observed us through their
glasses. Luckily we were able to take shelter behind some large
rocks. Darkness had quickly fallen, the guns stopped firing and
in a few minutes we had all fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.

There was no firing when I awoke about two hours later.
It was dark and I was feeling very much revived after the rest
and called the others. There were now only eight of us left. We
gathered around to discuss the situation and make our plans
for the immediate future. It was decided to look around and
find out what the position was, also to see if the Japs were
making any move to come after us. We came to the decision
that there was not much fear of that as apparently they
thought we had been accounted for by the shelling and were
no longer worth considering. As can be imagined, we were
truly thankful for this!

It was decided to leave the Chinese admiral in the care of
Henry Hsu under cover of the rocks, while we spread ourselves
out and explored the island. It appeared to be quite deserted
but on our way over the top of the hill to the other side we
spotted in the darkness a naval craft of some description lying
off the far end of the island. It was under cover of some rocks
and apparently waiting for orders. Hurriedly I called to the
others and in a few moments we gathered together on the hill-
side. We quickly came to the conclusion it was a British boat
and decided to try and attract their attention. We pulled off

ESCAPE 185

our shirts and waved to them, at the same time letting out a
series of shouts and yells to try and attract their attention.

This we finally succeeded in doing, but not in the way we
expected. In the eerie darkness they apparently mistook us for
Japanese and with a mighty burst opened fire at us with a
machine-gun! We dropped down under cover immediately
and luckily none of us was hit.

Keeping under cover we crawled down to the shore and
at last were able to make them understand who we were. They
called to us that they could not get the boat in any nearer to
the shore and that we would have to swim out to them.

So once again into the dark waters of the China seas we
went and it was with a great sense of relief that I felt the strong
arms of two British sailors heave me on to the deck of a motor
torpedo-boat.

After a change of clothes and a drink of rum supplied by
the Navy, Bill Robinson and I borrowed the dinghy and went
off to collect the Chinese admiral and to see if any of the others
from the motor-boat had survived the swim. It was now about
four hours since we had left him, but there he was, just lying
propped up against a rock, still slowly bleeding from the wound
in his arm. He greeted us with a wan smile and with not a
word of complaint about the hours we had been away. We
picked him up and carried him to the dinghy and rowed him
to the M.T.B. This little job had taken about two hours and
by this time the other Naval motor torpedo-boats had come
out of their respective hiding places and come up alongside.

Our party, together with the Naval officers from the
M.T.B.s, foregathered on one of the boats and discussed our
future plans. After the talk it was decided to make a dash just
after midnight for the Chinese mainland about a hundred
miles away to the east.

At the appointed time the boats all started up with the
loudest roar I have ever heard and with a bound we were away
like the start of a regatta boat race. Lights appeared as if from
nowhere and soon the sound ofa field gun from the land opened
up and the sky blazed with star shells and lights of all descrip-
tions. It was a fine black starry night and we were travelling

186 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

very fast and no immediate harm came to us. The place we
were heading for was about three hours away and, after about
an hour when everything seemed to be going well for us, there
appeared out of the darkness a large black shape on our star-
board side, and in a flash one of the Naval officers had identified
it and yelled out that it was a Japanese destroyer. Its search-
lights suddenly swept around and in a few minutes they had
picked us up. A moment later their guns opened fire on us.
They were about three miles away and luckily for us were going
in the opposite direction. Their shells fell short and because of
our speed, we were quickly out of range. They decided we were
not worth bothering about because they did not turn or send
some smaller craft after us, for which we were thankful; and
so that incident passed.

Our flotilla was now approaching the small inhabited island
of Ping Chan, which was just off the mainland. We slowed up
and it was decided that we should send a party ashore to find
out if this part of the coast was occupied by Japs. The way we
got our information was interesting. Bill Robinson and I
volunteered for the task of trying to kidnap a Chinese and
bring him back for the admiral to question. We were taken by a
couple of sailors in the dinghy to the shore on the mainland in
the dead of night. We told them to hold on and be prepared
for any emergency while Robinson and I walked up the beach.
We saw what appeared to be a fisherman’s hut and quietly
went up to it. We stood on either side of the door and as
Robinson knocked on it I stood ready. Presently the door
opened a little way and a Chinaman’s head peered out. In a
flash I hit him under the jaw and as he dropped we grabbed his
body and rushed it down to the waiting dinghy. The sailors
were ready and away we went with our prize to the M.T.B.
on which was the admiral.

We took our Chinese aboard, gave him a drink and the
admiral soon put him at ease and apologized for our rough
treatment. The information we got from him was of particular
consequence, for he was able to tell us that the Japanese were
in occupation about sixty miles inland. At this good news we
decided to make a landing. After much discussion and a certain

ESCAPE 187

amount of disagreement with the Naval officers, we finally
came to the conclusion that our best plan was to strip the boats
of everything, including guns, ammunition, food, petrol and
so on and then sink them.

By the time this prodigious task was over, dawn was upon
us and our immediate move was to get away from the coast as
soon as possible. We estimated that if we marched inland we
would have to cross the Jap lines on about the third night, as
we proposed only to move during the night and to rest by
day.

After two eventful days and nights we came to the road on
which the Japanese were travelling to and fro. We hid up until
about two o’clock in the morning and managed to get the whole
party—which now numbered, with Naval personnel, some fifty
to sixty men—across the road without undue incident. From
this point we kept going until we had two large rivers between
us and the Japanese. We had now walked a hundred miles in
three nights but with the Japanese well behind us for the time
being, we decided to rest for two days, to take stock of our
supplies and the situation in general.

At last we reached Waichow, the first important point of
our journey. The main object in making this place our destina-
tion was that here we hoped to pick up certain contacts which
would give us valuable information and would enable us to
make our plans accordingly.

It was here that we met a British Army intelligence officer
dressed and living the complete life of a Chinese. He was an
Englishman but spoke and understood everything about the
Chinese and was undoubtedly doing a masterly piece of intelli-
gence work. Later on I heard that he had established a secret
line of communication between the prisoner of war camps in
Hong Kong and the British Military Mission in Chungking.
A very noble effort.

From Waichow our next move was by two large rice barges
known as tunks. These were similar to ordinary barges but
with a hutted top so that we were able to keep under cover all
the time we were moving, which was by a small petrol engine.
The speed was not more than two knots an hour and as both

188 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

sides of the East River along which we were travelling was
occupied with Japanese soldiers in great numbers, it became a
thoroughly nerve-racking journey. During the journey of four
or five days many exciting and alarming things happened but
never once did the Japanese discover what was actually
going on under their very noses. To think that fifty to sixty
British Naval officers and men and our own party of three
Army officers, together with our beloved one-legged admiral
and his escort of armed guerillas, were for the best part of a
week right in their midst without their knowing it was almost
unbelievable.

We finally reached Wuchow and from now on our journey
became a lot easier as we were in the interior of China and with
little chance of being run to earth by Japs. They were already
occupying all the important coastal ports and would have to
consolidate their positions before attempting to occupy the
interior or consider the capture of the war-time capital
Chungking.

We continued on our way but progress was slow owing to a
number of factors. Most people were suffering from stomach
trouble including the Chinese admiral. Food was scarce and
we were having trouble with our footwear owing to the rough
going. The admiral was also feeling the effects of his wounded
arm as we had not been able to remove the bullet and inflam-
mation had set in.

When we reached Shiukwan, however, we were lucky
enough to find a Welsh mission which was still intact and in
first-class order with all their staff in full attendance. Dr. Martin,
who was in charge, took the whole party in hand and, with his
wonderful staff, looked after our immediate wants. It was
decided to leave the Chinese admiral in his care while the
party moved on. Henry Hsu stayed with him.

The Royal Navy party had decided to try to make their
way to Rangoon with the idea of contacting their own people
there. This was a great relief to us, and with our original party
now reduced to four we at last reached Kweiling.

This was indeed an important town to reach as it was well
into the interior of China and so out of reach of the Japanese

ESCAPE 189

for the time being. After we had got fixed up at a Chinese
guest house and had cleaned ourselves, we went down to the
Chinese restaurant and had a good feed. Bill Robinson soon
excused himself and said he was off to find out all he could.
Peter MacMillan and Max Oxford went out to see about an
American plane which had just touched down close by. I
decided to take a walk round the town to see what was doing.
Once again I came in contact with the British Intelligence
Service and my introduction to the 8.O.E. (Security Operations
Executive) was well in keeping with the cloak and dagger
business. I was walking in the busy shopping part of the town
and looking at the curious merchandise in the shops when a
Chinese man came close and murmured in English, ‘Follow me,
sar.” I was at once suspicious and took no notice. I thought it
might be some attempt to rob me as I still had some American
dollar notes around my waist. I continued slowly on my way
but had not gone far when a most attractive Chinese girl
moved up alongside me and said in English, ‘Please follow. It
is most important.’ I glanced at her and thought she looked as
if she was from Hong Kong, being rather better turned out
than most of the women I had seen in Kweiling. I gave her a
nod and decided to take a chance.

We went on a little way until we reached one of the larger
shops under the main building in the town. She turned into a
soft goods store and I followed. There were a certain number of
people in the shop but they were all engrossed in bargaining
and nobody appeared to notice us. After looking at some of the
articles on the counters she passed through a swing door at the
other end of the shop. I waited for a minute or two and then
followed. I found her a little way up a dark passage. She came
forward with a sweet smile and said, ‘Come along, Captain
Guest, the Doctor is waiting to see you.’

When I heard her mention my name I was really staggered.
Here I was in the heart of China, right off the European beaten
track and within two hours of being in the strange town I
was being addressed by my own name by a strange Chinese
woman. Immediately I pulled myself together and thought
quickly.

Igo INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

‘Ah yes! This is some of Bill Robinson’s tricky work,’ I said
aloud, ‘Is Robinson here?’ She shook her head and said,
‘Please come.’

She opened a door which led into a workroom and there on
the floor were a group of Chinese radio mechanics working
away at wireless sets of all shapes and sizes. They barely glanced
up as we passed through. Another door was opened which led
into a small office, still in Chinese style. There were two or three
Chinese men working away at their desks on the floor, but one,
who looked rather larger than the others, lifted his head as we
entered. He rose from the floor, smiled and held out his hand.
In a flash I knew I was before an Englishman.

‘So you would not swallow my first bait, Guest!’ he said,
with a smile.

‘No, sir,’ I rejoined, ‘but I fell hook, line and sinker for
your second,’ and I turned to my Chinese decoy with a sheepish
grin.

‘May I introduce you to Mimi,’ continued the doctor. ‘She
is, indeed, a great help to me.’

We bowed to one another.

I sensed at once that I was before an intriguing section of
our intelligence system. The doctor asked me to sit down and
Mimi left us. He informed me that his department had been
told to contact our party as soon as we arrived in Kweiling and,
for obvious reasons, had done it the way they thought safest
from their point of view. He asked me to tell him everything I
knew about the Hong Kong and Mainland P.O.W. Camps
which I was only too pleased to do. It was not until some time
later I actually found out what a wonderful job the S.O.E. did
from this particular focal point. This was the small beginning
of an important unit, later known as the B.A.A.G. (British Army
Aid Group) and commanded by the doctor, known as ‘Doc’,
who, of course, was actually a British Army colonel. Their
principle role was to get in touch with the various P.O.W.
camps and organize ‘Escape and Evasion’ operations from any-
where in China and Hong Kong. From this same building,
which became known as the ‘Governor’s Palace’, the doctor
ran a wireless network, together with a secret factory for the

ESCAPE 1g!

manufacture and building of transmitters and receivers for the
Chinese Intelligence Organization.

This factory, which quickly developed and had to be
extended to the outskirts of Kweiling, was under the managing
director who was none other than my lovely decoy, ‘Mimi’. It
appeared that she and her husband had run a radio business in
Hong Kong but had got away as refugees during the fighting.
With the help of B.A.A.G. they had managed to smuggle out of
their factory in Hong Kong, equipment, tools, transformers and
so on and had quickly got the secret factory going in Kweiling,
the beginnings of which I had seen. The smuggling operations
had been carried out right under the very noses of the Japanese.
Among the many coolies working on the large road building
and repairs were a number in the service of B.A.A.G. and the
parts were passed on from gang to gang until they were safely
through the various barriers. As invariably happens on jobs of
this kind, a certain amount of failure is experienced and the
Japanese only had one way of dealing with smugglers and that
was death. As the danger mounted so the price demanded by
the smugglers went up and up, but, mainly owing to the
brilliant organizing ability of Mimi, the scheme never got out
of hand and the supply was kept going. The Royal Corps of
Signals, who were well in on this particular project, did a
wonderful job by finally establishing a complete wireless net-
work throughout the length and breadth of China, including
every prisoner of war camp under the Japanese.

I never met the lovely Mimi again but I heard later how
she enjoyed telling the story of how she successfully decoyed the
‘tough Freddie Guest’.

Bill Robinson apparently had had nothing to do with the
above incident but he mysteriously disappeared on receipt of
special orders. MacMillan and Oxford came back to the guest
house just after I returned, very excited and in a desperate
hurry. It appeared that the American plane had just room for
the two of them, although it was only a two-seater, and they
decided to take advantage of this offer and fly on to Chungking.

I was left alone with five hundred miles still to go, but, as
my health was better than that of the others, I did not worry and

192 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

continued on my way. By this time I had contacted a Chinese
force which was on its way to Chungking so I joined up with
them. I eventually reached Chungking.

After staying there for two or three weeks, working with the
British Military Mission, I received orders to report to G.H.Q.
Delhi, India. An American plane was flying out that night and
my instructions were to be at the aerodrome at 3 a.m. In the
dead of night the overloaded plane took off and, after an event-
ful journey, we landed at Dum Dum Aerodrome in Calcutta,
at six o’clock that same day—a distance of twelve hundred
miles.

It was grand to be back in India once again after the
insecurity of China and especially the nervous tension which was
so evident in Chungking. I was pleased to see India again as it
had been a few years since I was there. It had changed very
little in general appearances but I soon sensed an undercurrent
of feeling which was not quite so apparent when I was last in
India. The Japanese successes were undoubtedly taking effect.

It was, however, good to see the Indian Army around and
one could not help but feel more secure in every way.

18

Americans Come to India

shopping. I possessed nothing more than the clothes I

was wearing. So I went along to the field cashier and
obtained from him the princely sum of one thousand rupees.
I then made my way to Chowringhee, the Calcutta shopping
centre, and spent a considerable amount on such things as
shirts, shorts, shoes and stockings, hair-brushes, shaving tackle
and a wrist watch. I next visited the ordnance stores and drew
a refitment of officer’s equipment which made me feel that
I was back in circulation once more—a very comforting
feeling.

A room had already been booked for me at the Great
Eastern Hotel and when I arrived I met Peter MacMillan who
was already installed there. We talked a little and decided to
meet again later and dine together at Firpos. One of the great
joys of my life has always been to live for the moment and if the
contrasts have been extreme, so much the better! If one has
been living rough then the change to high life is so much more
appreciated and vice versa. It is no use counting the cost.

The scene in Firpos that evening was one of gaiety and the
place was full of people of all races. Parties of Naval officers
were there with their girl friends of every nation, Army
officers were with their ladies, Air Force officers with their popsies
and European civilians with their wives. What a range they
covered and all so different and true to type. My first impression,
having so recently come from the poverty and sordidness of
China, not to mention the grimness of the war in Hong Kong,
was that the scene was unreal and forced. However, true to

= 193

M: first thought on arriving in Calcutta was to go

194 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

my inclination, I quickly changed and was soon in the spirit
and mood of the East.

I have always thought that the Duke of Wellington’s Ball
on the eve of Waterloo was the right idea for a soldier—in
other words, ‘Let’s eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we
die!’ How right! I could never understand the mentality of men
who took their wars so seriously that any idea of relaxation was
just anathema to them. I always made a point of avoiding
them! However, we can’t all be the same and there is no truer
proverb than that of ‘birds of a feather,’ etc., especially when
it comes to pleasure. If it is gaiety one is seeking, then go to the
gay places where the gay and light-hearted foregather. Firpos
that night was just such a place. I knew from past experience
that if there were any gay friends of mine who might be in
Calcutta, then it would be at Firpos we would be most likely
to meet.

Sure enough, within a few minutes of our arrival several
appeared on the scene. We soon got together and as I thought
the occasion called for a celebration I quickly called for cham-
pagne and the party was on! In some strange way our hilarity
soon spread around and Firpos became a gay and wild place
that evening. We enjoyed every minute of it.

The following day I reported to command H.Q, at Fort
William and found MacMillan already there. The first person
to contact us was the first woman officer I had seen. She was
A.D.C. to the G.O.C. Major-General Hayward. The A.T.S.
had not, at this time, been sent to Hong Kong. I don’t remember
her name, except that she was known throughout command as
“Tuppence’. She was very charming and efficient, and came to
inform us that the G.O.C. would see us immediately.

We were taken into his office and he greeted us warmly,
congratulated us on our escape from Hong Kong. He said he
would like to hear our story but thought it would be better told
over lunch to which he invited us. We thanked him and left.

MacMillan said he was off to the chief gunner officer and
with a ‘cheerio, see you at lunch’, was gone. “Tuppence’ told
me to hang on a moment as I was to see the G.S.O. 1. A few
minutes later I was shown into his office. He asked me for a

AMERICANS COME TO INDIA 195

brief account of my expcriences and then handed me over to his
G.S.O. 2, who took down my report. This took up the rest of
the morning. Then I went and got ready for lunch.

There were twelve of us in the party and after introductions
by the general, we had a drink and went into lunch. It was a
great success as everyone wanted to hear our story. During
lunch ‘Tuppence’ mentioned that the G.S.O. 1 wished to see
me in the afternoon as he had a job for me. I was a little
perturbed because she would not tell me what it was but from
what I had gathered from MacMillan it sounded as if I was to
do some lecturing. MacMillan had already received orders to
go on to G.H.Q. Delhi and was leaving the next day.

It was as I feared. The G.S.O. 1 informed me that the
general wanted me to stay in Calcutta for a few days and give
a talk to various groups of his command on my experiences and
that a further programme was already arranged. He handed
me the list, which read as follows:

The Calcutta Light Horse,
The Bengal Club,
Command H.Q.,

An Indian audience.

‘Rather like shooting a line, isn’t it, sir?’ I exclaimed.

‘Don’t worry, Guest,’ he said. ‘You have a good story and
everyone wants to hear you.’

‘T’ll do my best, sir,’ I promised.

My first talk, to the Calcutta Light Horse, was a great
success, but they were rather shaken when I told them of the
Japanese successes and that I thought there were more to come.

That evening they entertained me to dinner at Firpos. In
those early days the food was still very good indeed and we had
a jolly party.

The following evening I gave a talk to the Bengal Club after
being entertained to dinner by the chairman and members of
the club. This also was a great success and they rounded it off
by making me an honorary member for the remainder of my
stay in Calcutta which I greatly appreciated.

My other two talks were equally successful although the

196 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

one to the Indian audience was followed by some very knotty
questions which called for some thoughtful answers. There was
no doubt that they had been greatly influenced and affected
by the successful advances made by the Japanese. They did not
under-estimate the Japanese at that time in quite the same way
as the Europeans were apt to do.

I left Calcutta the next day after an eventful week and
boarded the mail train for Delhi. This was my original destina-
tion from the time I left Hong Kong, a distance of no less than
three thousand five hundred miles. It had taken the best part
of three months and I had travelled by motor torpedo-boat,
junk, tunk, truck, railway hand-cart, aeroplane, and, by no
means the least, my own two feet!

On my arrival I was lucky enough to be able to get fixed
up at the Imperial Hotel which was the leading hotel in Delhi.
The first man I ran into was none other than Bill Robinson. He
was dressed once again in the uniform of a superintendent of the
Indian police, looking fit and well and as cheerful as ever. He
told me the news; that Peter MacMillan had gone places;
that my old friend, the one-legged Chinese admiral, Chan
Chak, had arrived safely in Chungking with Henry Hsu and
that they were being féted in a big way by the Chinese generals,
and that Major Arthur Goring had reached Chunking and was
expected in India any moment.

After reporting to G.H.Q., I was again the centre of
interest as everyone wanted to hear my story. I lunched with the
Viceroy, Lord Linlithgow, and, of course, the conversation
was about my escape. I was invited to tea with the commander-
in-chief, General Wavell, who was particularly interested in
all that I had to say and asked many questions about the
Japanese.

There was a lot of excitement in Delhi about this time as
the news was that the Americans were coming to India in a big
way, and were expected in Delhi shortly. Sure enough, their
planes began to land in large numbers and in an amazingly
short time they had established their Indian H.Q. They were
given the Imperial Hotel as their temporary H.Q., and
British personnel staying there had to leave within the week.

AMERICANS COME TO INDIA 197

This move was not popular and caused quite an upset with the
British residents. These consisted without exception of senior
officers, and their wives, of the general headquarters’ staff.
They were mostly of high rank and had been going backward
and forward from Delhi to Simla (in the hot weather) for years
on end—in some cases ten to fifteen years. Personally, I was
glad to see it as one got the impression that they were a little
too smug and remote, far removed from the war, and they did
not appear to realize just how very serious things were.

News of more Japanese successes were now coming in
continually and I was asked to report to the intelligence branch
at H.Q. for special duty. My orders were to go at once to
Chittagong and along the coast beyond to Cox’s Bazaar, to
find out what was happening there. It appeared that communi-
cations from that part of the country had stopped. I was to
take with me an American special duties officer who was on the
staff of General Bradley, the American G.O.C. in Delhi. He
had flown into India with the first batch of American officers
and was anxious to get first-hand information about the
Japanese. He was a Major C. V. Whitney of the American
Air Force, keen as mustard and terribly eager to get on the job.
We arranged to meet at the railway station the following
morning as we were going by mail train to Calcutta, there
being no planes available. He was not perturbed at the idea of
the long train journey. He said this would give him a better
opportunity of getting the feel of India and the East, as every-
thing was moving a little too quickly, even for Americans!

I arrived at the station in good time with just my one
bundled holdall, packed as lightly as possible and, as I expected
to find myself in some out of the way places, I decided not to
take my Indian servant. Looking around for Whitney I saw
that he had not arrived yet. I had not long to wait, however,
as the next minute he appeared on the scene, followed by a host
of Indian coolies. They proceeded to dump his luggage along-
side mine as he came over to join me.

He must have seen the look of amazement on my face as
the pile of cases got bigger and bigger. I asked him what on
earth they were for and did he realize where we were going? It

198 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

was his turn to look amazed as he said that as we would be
away for over a week surely we would be wanting something to
eat during that time and ‘Well—here it is.’

I burst out laughing as I explained that we could get all we
wanted on the mail train and could pick up rations in Calcutta
for our journey. His next remark was amusing as he said he had
heard bad reports about Indian food and drink and was taking
no chances!

The train came in with a roar and saved us from any
further discussion on the matter. Luckily we found an empty
compartment and the cases of food were piled in. Goodness
knows where we would have put them if the train had been full.

It is strange how quickly two people get to know one
another when they have to travel together for two or three days
on end. We hit it off very well indeed and got on famously.
He was more than interested in all I could tell him about
India and the Far East, as my years of life and experiences in
the East were, as he expressed it, an eye-opener. He had no
idea about the British way of life in these parts of the world.
He was particularly intrigued with the Indian Army and
appeared agreeably surprised when I told him ofits strength and
efficiency.

I, on the other hand, got my surprises when it came to meal
times. It was amazing to see what was in those cases. There
were tinned hams and meats of different kinds and every
vegetable one could think of. There were creamed sauces,
cheeses, biscuits, pickles, tinned fruits of the most luscious
varieties, such as melons, pineapples, peaches and apricots and,
added to all this, was a complete cooking stove and utensils
for making anything in double quick time especially coffee
with the best tinned milk I had ever tasted. We even had tinned
bread and the butter was unbelievably good. As for drinks—
we had the lot! Whisky, gin, beer (in tins) and soft drinks of all
kinds. In fact, it was the best array of canned food I had ever
eaten—or even seen!

After my scathing remarks at the station I am afraid the
laugh was on me. As Whitney pointed out later, why go short or
be uncomfortable before one is forced to. How right he was! It

AMERICANS COME TO INDIA 199

can always be dumped at any moment so why bother? It
certainly was the best food I ever had on an Indian train,
although, mind you, meals on the mail trains in India in peace-
time could be very good.

We thoroughly enjoyed our journey and arrived in Calcutta
after two days travelling. My plans were that we would go on
by another train to Dacca, but Whitney had other ideas and
he soon got to work. He contacted the American H.Q. in
Calcutta and in no time at all had got a jeep from them which
was put at our disposal. This made things very much easier
for us besides saving a great deal of time. It must have been one
of the first of those very useful and practical vehicles to be put
into service in India. The Americans had only been in India a
few days but they were quick to see that these little motors had
real value and could be put to good use. We piled our holdalls
into it and, as before, a wonderful stock of food and drink.
This time I knew the food was going to be much more important
to us during the next few days.

Our destination was the small ferry port of Chandpur on
the other side of the Brahmaputra, that fast-flowing river which
divides India from Burma. Owing to the many tributaries at
the mouth of the great Ganges, it was a difficult and roundabout
journey which took us to Dacca. This is one of those places in
Bengal which had caused the British much trouble in the past
and I was particularly interested to see it.

We arrived late in the afternoon and decided to stay the
night, before going on to the ferry which was still some distance
away. Our first difficulty, however, was to find a place to stay.
This was not easy as there were no military camps nearby, no
hotels and no dak bungalows. However, we found the old
British club which was no longer used and decided to pitch
our camp on its verandas.

Having put the club chokidah in charge of our kits we
went for a walk around what remained of the little cantonment.
We found the English church and I suggested to Whitney that
we might have a look inside. It did not look much from the
outside and he looked a little surprised at my suggestion. How-
ever, we went in and it was typical of small English churches

200 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

which are to be found all over India. There was not much to
see except for three small curtains on the walls which were
obviously covering three brass plaques. Whitney was about to go
when I drew his attention to them and pulled back the curtains
for him to read the inscriptions. A look of surprise came over
his face as he read the epitaphs of three separate British
officials of the Indian Civil Service who had been murdered
within the last twenty years in Dacca. One told the story of
the police commissioner who was shot dead by an Indian girl
who asked to see him on some faked up subject and, when
admitted into his office, just drew a revolver from under her
sari and shot him dead.

As we walked out Whitney expressed his surprise that he
had not heard about any of these incidents and how little one
heard of such cases in America. Even I, who knew about these
things and had heard of Dacca’s reputation, was a little
shaken. We appeared to be the only Europeans in Dacca that
night. There had been a certain amount of unrest and anti-
British feeling and we took the precaution of loading our pistols
and tucking them under our pillows.

The night passed off without incident, however, and
immediately after breakfast, which the club kitmaghar pre-
pared for us, we packed our things into the jeep and were on
our way.

We reached Nargangany in good time. From here we were
to cross the Brahmaputra to Chandpur by ferry boat. The river
at this point is very wide and, because of its fast running, the
ferry goes some two or three miles downstream. The boat was
alongside the pier and due to depart in an hour’s time. A
surprise was in store for us when we went on board. On the
first-class deck we found everything spotlessly white with a
number of small cabins and a fair-sized dining-room where a
good lunch was being served. There were a number of other
first-class passengers, including half-a-dozen British officers.
The lower decks for the third-class passengers were indeed an
amazing sight. They were packed with hundreds of Indian men,
women and children and, at first sight, I wondered why all these
people were travelling across, especially that way. I was told

AMERICANS COME TO INDIA 20I

that this was nothing unusual and happened every day. It
appeared that the Indians just loved to go on the ferry as it was
probably the cheapest way of having a boat trip! Another
interesting thing I was able to find out about this ferry service
was that the Brahmaputra Steamship Company was actually
owned by two dear old ladies living very quietly, but I should
imagine very well, in some nice country house down in Devon-
shire. It had been left to them by their father and they had
decided to hold on to it. I should imagine it had paid some
very handsome dividends over the years. I remember seeing
the date of 1906 on a brass plate showing the year the ferry boat
was built in Glasgow.

The crossing was quite an event as it took a full hour to
go down the river from west to east, but apparently it took over
two hours to do the journey from east to west owing to the strong
current. All kinds of flotsam and jetsam came down that river
such as large masses of tangled vegetation, great trunks of trees,
bodies of big game, such as tigers and panthers, and even
elephants were not considered an uncommon sight. Mugger,
which is the name given to small crocodiles, were the most usual
sight and these would be seen floating down the river on large
lumps of earth just basking in the sun.

A little group of us got together and discussed the war and
it was plain for me to see and hear that these officers had little
idea of what they would be up against when they met the Japs
in the near future.

Whitney was particularly interested in the discussion as he
wanted to learn all he could about what was happening. These
officers were on their way up to Manipur Road.

We had of course, managed to get our jeep on to the ferry
and so when at last the landing stage at Chandpur was reached,
we quickly got it off and made our way along the road to
Chittagong. It soon became evident that the pattern of Indian
life had changed completely in the last couple of weeks on this
side of the Brahmaputra. Very few people were about and it was
obvious that everyone was on the run and getting out as fast
as they could. We called in at the various police posts as we
approached Chittagong but they had been deserted and there

202 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

was now no doubt that the population were scared of the
Japanese advance and were leaving while there was time.

We reached Chittagong and realized at once that we were
in a ghost town, as not a soul was to be seen anywhere. All
the houses were empty with little left in them; the shops had
been cleared of all their goods and the whole place had that air
of desolation which indicates pending disaster. Whitney was,
by this time, definitely concerned and turning to me asked,
‘Well, Freddie, where do we go from here? I think we should
get out of here quickly.’

‘No, we can’t do that, C.V.,’ I replied. ‘We haven’t found
out where the Japs actually are, and that is what we came here
to discover.’

‘O.K..,” he said. ‘But how do we go about it ?’

‘I think if we look around a bit we shall find some Army
store depot and there is bound to be someone there,’ I
answered. ‘Come on, let’s go!

And with that we clambered back into the jeep.

We drove up and down the roads and after a little while,
sure enough, came upon a small depot of the R.A.S.C. There
was a young officer in charge with a few Indian soldiers and
we tried to get as much information as possible from him. He
did not know much except that the Japs were reported to be
about one hundred miles to the south and that they were
coming north pretty fast. He had received orders to move his
depot up to Mymensingh, about two miles north, and on the
main road to Manipur Road. We asked him if he would be
clear that night but he said he could not get out by then and
so we decided to stay at the depot for that night, much to
Whitney’s disgust. I think he was still thinking of my stories of
how the Japanese moved mostly by night and he had visions
of us being in the way. I assured him that there was no fear of
this happening as they could not make the distance in the
time, but I could see he was not happy about it.

However, we passed an uneventful night and were up at
the crack of dawn. My idea now was to get the jeep down on to
the sands by the shore and drive along towards Cox’s Bazaar
and Elephant Point to see if we could get any information there.

AMERICANS COME TO INDIA 203

It was a grand morning as we drove along the big stretch of
silvery sands with the sea only a few yards away on our right
and jungle scrub and bushes some distance away on our left.
We had been lucky in finding a supply of petrol at the depot
and we had a number of full tins with us.

As we drove along I could see that Whitney was beginning
to wonder what I was up to. We had not seen a sign of any-
body, not even fishermen. As we neared Cox’s Bazaar, I saw
one or two Indians in the distance but, as we approached in
the fast travelling jeep, they looked up suddenly and were
away into the jungle before we could get up to them.

Whitney looked a little disconcerted at this turn of events,
but I reassured him that the Japs could not be around or these
folk would not be here at all. On this assumption I decided to
continue along the sands to Elephant Point. We had not gone
far, however, when suddenly we heard the sound of firing away
towards some hills which we could see on our left across the
scrub country.

‘What’s that ?’ said Whitney, looking a little startled. “What
the hell’s that ?’

I said, ‘I think I will just go across and find out. I am sure
it sounded pretty far away.’

Just at this moment we heard the unmistakable sound of a
machine-gun.

‘That,’ I exclaimed, ‘sounds to me like Japs, and that is the
information I wanted.’

I was standing by the jeep which we had stopped to listen
to the firing but my remark seemed to startle Whitney and with
a yell of ‘You goddamned idiot! For God’s sake let’s get to hell
out of here!’ he started up the jeep, swung her round, and it
was as much as I could do to hold on to it as it was already
beginning to roar.

In went the clutch and away we went like mad. There was
no mistake about his intentions. His foot was right down on the
accelerator and we were speeding to the limit of the jeep’s
capacity. ’

I yelled to him to take it easy as I felt that the jeep might
Overturn at any moment, and laughed as I said it seemed to

204 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

me to be more dangerous than the rifle fire. With that he slowed
down and burst out laughing.

‘Gee,’ he said. ‘You’re a casual kind of a guy. Just you
remember I haven’t been shot at yet and I’m in no hurry for
it to begin.’

‘All right, C.V.—don’t worry. I’m not all that keen on it
myself,’ and we both chuckled.

We duly arrived back in Chittagong without further
incidents, and called in at the depot only to find that this was
now Cleared of stores and quite deserted. We drove around the
town but could not find a soul anywhere. It was obvious that
news had travelled fast and that the people were of the opinion
that the Japs were likely to be in the town at any moment.

As a matter of fact the Japanese never got any farther than
the place where I had reported the machine-gun fire and their
advance into Burma was much farther north of this point. The
reason was, of course, that the coastline along which we had
driven was very vulnerable to attack by torpedo-boats and
raiding parties from Calcutta. On the other hand, if the Japanese
had been able to occupy Chittagong in force, Calcutta would
have been threatened and a very serious battle would have
had to be fought for the supremacy of the Bay of Bengal.

When we reached Chandpur this time things had changed
considerably and were very different from what they were a
few days previously. Refugees were massing in their thousands,
all trying to get on the ferry boat to cross over to India proper.
Military police had taken over to try to control the crowds.
Canteens had been organized and were attended by the British
women of Calcutta who were doing a wonderful job. Large
camps had been laid out with the idea of marshalling the
refugees, who were increasing in numbers every minute. They
were coming in from all directions. Added to this was the com-
ing and going of military personnel on their way up to Manipur
Road, which was the end of the railway line to Northern Burma,
through Assam, and was the main base for the 14th Army.

The ferries were working to capacity and had to be con-
trolled by the police who decided the priorities by which people

were allowed to travel.

AMERICANS COME TO INDIA 205

I was able to get Whitney on to the ferry right away.
After getting in touch with Calcutta H.Q., they informed me
that I was to stay where I was and await further orders. I got
my report through to Delhi and they, in turn, gave me a further
consignment; I was to take up certain documents to the 14th
Army Headquarters which was camped in the jungle some-
where up by Manipur Road. Whitney and I said our hurried
farewells as he was off post haste to report to his general in Delhi.

When I reached the railway junction which connected the
Assam and Burma lines, the scene I came upon was terrible.
Refugees in the most shocking state of distress were everywhere
—men, women and children were lying huddled together in
thousands and were still pouring in from the railway track
along which they had come. The trains from Burma had ceased
to run and these refugees had walked hundreds of miles along
the lines in their endeavour to escape from the oncoming
Japanese.

They were starving, sick and completely destitute. Children
were there in hundreds and many had lost their parents who
had died by the roadside in the long trek. Others had left their
mothers or fathers who could not keep up with the surging
masses as they struggled along. The women voluntary workers
from Calcutta were there in numbers doing their utmost to
help them with food and clothing, and organizing transit
camps until they could be got to India.

As I waited for my train on the Assam line, which was still
functioning, I joined the workers to do what I could. I decided
to try and round up the lost children. Going in and out of the
huddled masses on the platform, most of them stretched out
asleep from sheer exhaustion, I picked up no less than five dead
children. In one case a boy and girl of not more than six or
seven years of age were locked in one another’s arms quite
dead—a terribly moving sight even to one who had seen so
much death and destruction in the last few months.

From the refugees we heard grim stories of the Japanese
atrocities in their advance into Burma. It was difficult to
separate the truth from exaggeration but the fact remained
that a very real refugee problem had suddenly appeared on our

206 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

hands that would take a lot of work to solve. The voluntary
workers were indeed doing a wonderful job. Soup kitchens
had been organized, emergency hospitals formed, clothing
distributing centres arranged and extra ferry services put on to
relieve the awful congestion which was focused at this point.
There was so much to be done and I found it difficult to tear
myself away from such a catastrophe where so much help was
wanted.

However, I had to take my place on the single line train
bound for Manipur Road. Luckily the refugees were not going
this way and so we were spared the terrible over-crowding that
would have resulted. The passengers consisted only of military
and Air Force personnel and, of course, the train was full to
capacity. Being a single line the journey was slow and tedious
as we had to wait for down line trains every so often. The
journey, however, had its compensations as the scenery through
the jungle was magnificent and colourful. On one occasion I
saw what appeared to be a white cloud pass by the carriage
window and it took seconds to realize that it was an enormous
cluster of white butterflies! I have never seen anything like it
in any other part of the world.

At last the train arrived at Manipur Road, which was the
terminus of the Assam Railway. The scene here was one of
exceptional military activity. It had quickly become the base
for the Burma operation, and stores were pouring in by the
ton. From here I made my way down to Imphal where I
contacted the 7th Armoured Brigade and gave them their
instructions to get to the rail head at Manipur Road. When I
returned to the terminus myself the congestion was beginning
to be really serious. The refugees added to the already difficult
supply problem and although a road was being cut through
with all speed, the heavy rains did not help to make things any
easier. In fact, it was as near absolute chaos as it was possible
to be. However, I managed to get out eventually and make my
way back to Calcutta, and thence to Delhi.

When I returned to H.Q. Delhi, the Director of Training
informed me I was to go on a lecture tour of every command
in India. The subject was my experiences in Hong Kong and

AMERICANS COME TO INDIA 207

Burma and to give the troops wlo were now in training some
idea of the methods of the Japanese and what they were up
against. It was obvious that the word ‘infiltration’ had not yet
become known or understood in military parlance. Few had
heard of it and even fewer knew what it really meant. The
Japanese had indeed brought in a new conception of modern
warfare which had changed the old ideas almost overnight.
The programme and timetable of my intended tour took a few
days to prepare, because of the complicated nature of the
journey, as it was expected to cover India, Assam and Burma.

Eventually the arrangements were completed and I
travelled by all manner of ways to the various commands,
firstly to those of northern India, then to Assam as far as
Shillong and then back again to central and southern India.
Everywhere I was listened to with considerable interest and
appreciation by those concerned. From my point of view it
was indeed an interesting and unforgettable experience. I
stayed in most of the Government houses throughout India and
received the hospitality of the various Governors. In some
instances it was difficult to realize there really was a war going
on, as in India tradition and custom dies hard. In one State
I visited the old peacetime formalities were carried out to the
letter. The A.D.C. informed me that I would be expected to
dress in mess kit for dinner—I had to borrow this!—and that
I was to be in the ante-room at an exact time each evening.
When dinner was announced I would be expected to escort the
Governor’s wife into the dining-room. I thought this was a
little unreal at the time but then I had seen so much more of the
war and was probably a little prejudiced.

At Shillong in Assam, I stayed at the most delightful
English style country house, the home of the Governor. During
my stay I was invited to play polo in a special game arranged
for me. Although I appreciated the gesture I was not really in
the mood for such pleasantries and felt the occasion hardly
warranted it. In Ranchi I stayed with the G.O.C. His daughter,
who acted as hostess, was extremely kind and placed her horses
at my disposal. This I appreciated very much as it gave me a
chance to get some much needed exercise by having a good

208 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

gallop before breakfast. In Madras I was entertained by the
Governor who gave several parties in my honour. There was no
doubt that the war was very far removed from southern India.

Once again I found myself in Bangalore where I was
listened to with considerable interest in the officers’ cadet
school. Here was the nucleus of the young officers-to-be, who
would and did play a large part in the second and more success-
ful campaign in Burma.

The tour took two months altogether and on my return to
H.Q. in Delhi I was thoroughly worn out. I had not stopped
travelling since the escape from Hong Kong eight months
earlier that year. I applied for leave. The military secretary
realized that I needed a rest and granted me twenty-one days
leave to Kashmir. When I arrived in Gulmurg the place was
full of visitors and very much the same as one would expect
to find it in peacetime. It was crowded with people from all
the services, as well as with Americans and civilians from all
over India.

The American Air Force had already established an air-
port and a fair-sized leave camp. I was lucky enough to find a
room in the Naidus Hotel and, within a few hours, became
absorbed into the life of gaiety which prevailed.

On the second day I was quickly spotted as the man who
had escaped from Hong Kong and was asked to give a talk. In
the dining-room after lunch I was called upon to speak, which
I did there and then. I just stood on my table and gave a
spontaneous talk about my experiences. It was a great success
and from that moment everyone was very hospitable, and I
was invited to practically every party in the station.

The very beauty of Gulmurg goes to the head and is quite
unbelievable. It is a small green hamlet perched on a little
plateau cut right in the heart of the mighty Himalayas. A golf
course takes up most of the flat ground in the centre and is
completely surrounded by thick woods of pines and firs.
English style bungalows are tucked away in the woods very
effectively and looking down on this lovely setting are the
stupendous snow-capped peaks of the highest mountains in the
world.

AMERICANS COME TO INDIA 209

Undoubtedly in some strange way one feels the remoteness
of this paradise in spite of its English setting with a Swiss
flavour. It is nine thousand feet high which I consider is a
little too high to be comfortable. It is difficult to breathe with
absolute comfort at that great height and this is very noticeable
when one arrives there for the first time. It takes two or three
days really to become acclimatized. It is quite impossible to
play tennis or squash or take any form of strenuous exercise.
Even golf has to be played very gently. It was strange trying to
carry out a simple thing like putting, feeling as if you had just
finished a hundred-yard sprint! The social centre of Gulmurg
was the club from which radiated most activities. The building
of the new premises had just been completed and was generally
voted a great improvement on the old. There were dance and
card rooms and also a small but pleasant dining-room. Most of
the days seemed to be spent in playing golf or trekking in the
mountains. There were cocktail parties somewhere every
evening, then dinner and dancing every night, either at the
Naidus Hotel or the club. Life was about as hectic as one
could want or take it. It was a great tonic to the war-weary.

Srinagar, the Venice of the East, was a thousand feet
below Gulmurg, but it was quite an expedition to go there and
back in a day. The journey was by ponies and very tiring,
especially for the unfortunate but game little mountain ponies.
It was wonderful and incredible to see them pick their way up
and down those steep mountain sides with ten, twelve or even
fourteen stones on their backs. Although I was very taken with
Srinagar I preferred Gulmurg because I liked to live in a
bungalow rather than in a houseboat. I spent two or three days
there, however, which were very enjoyable. Another two days
were spent trekking in the mountains visiting the famous lakes
(including Vishansar, 12,200 feet high) which are formed by
the melting snows. The blackness of the mountains is reflected
in the water and looks very sinister but the lakes are seen for
one or two months only, being frozen over for most of the year.

It was indeed a wonderful leave which came at a time

when I needed it most.

Ly

Bangalore and Farewell to India

During my leave the war in the East had deteriorated,

and the military secretary’s office was being pressed to
find officers for the many appointments which had to be filled
because of the emergency. The officer training cadet’s school
had been called upon to increase its intake of cadets by large
numbers with the result that more instructing staff had to be
found for them. I received orders to join the staff at the O.T.C.
School in Bangalore.

Naturally, I queried this appointment because, with my
experience, I felt I could be of more use on active service. I
had now recovered completely and was fit again. The M.S. was
good enough to see me and explain the reason for the appoint-
ment, which was interesting. It appeared that the campaign in
Burma was going very badly and that the cause of this was,
largely, the failure of our mechanized Army. In the difficult
mountain country of Burma with its almost uncrossable rivers,
mechanization did not function, as I had seen for myself. It was
decided that a changeover to the old animal transport had got
to be brought about immediately. This meant the return of
mules and all the training which is associated with our old
friend, the pack mule. The difficulty, of course, was to find an
officer experienced and capable of instructing in this bygone
subject. Owing to the complete mechanization of the British
and Indian Armies over the past few years, there were few
available cavalry officers versed in this, now out of date, skill.

It was pointed out that the matter was extremely urgent
and with my previous experience on the frontier I was an

T= time came for me to report back to H.Q. however.

210

BANGALORE AND FAREWELL TO INDIA 211

automatic choice. The appointment was for one year and it
was hoped I would be relieved after that time. It was, however,
twenty months later before a relief was found for me; not, in
fact, until after the second Burma campaign had been success-
ful. During that time I trained no less than three thousand
young officers in animal transport. A considerable number of
these were Indians and are the senior officers of the Indian and
Pakistan Armies of today.

It was grand getting back again to the wonderful climate
of Bangalore after the heat of northern India and Burma. It
seems strange that during my many years in India I returned to
Bangalore again and again. It was considered a good station
because of its admirable climate but many people who have
spent years in India never managed to get anywhere near it.
After serving in northern India it certainly appeared rather
remote and out of touch.

My first job on reporting for duty on the instruction staff
at the O.T.C. was to prepare my lessons for the teaching of
animal transport. I had to collect my animals from remounts,
get my stables ready, draw harness and saddlery from stores
and finally arrange my programme.

As this subject had not been taught previously in this war,
the whole thing had to be started from scratch. It had become
completely outdated owing to mechanization. From the
remount depot at Almanagar came twenty-four mules and
twenty horses. These were soon settled in the stables which had
been prepared for their reception. This was not difficult because
the cadet school was actually situated in the old cavalry
barracks and the stables and riding school were still in evidence.
These were quickly renovated and the animals were put into
training for the work ahead. The cadets were to be given the
simple rudiments of riding but the main object was to instruct
them in mule and pack transport. It did not take long to get
organized.

From the moment the animals arrived and right from the
start, the riding classes quickly became very popular. The real
fun commenced, however, when cadets and mules met for the
first time in their lives. Neither trusted the other from the word

212 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

go, for the cadets were scared stiff and this in turn made the
mules nervous and timid. The distrust was mutual. The result
was terribly funny but frightfully alarming. The first few lessons
would go quietly enough. In these, one or two mules would be
brought into the arena where the instruction took place. I
explained the history of the animals, how they were fed and
watered, how they should be groomed and generally treated.
Later came lessons showing how the packs were made up and
how they were hooked on to the harness. There were twelve
lectures in the series but in these early lessons only one or two
mules were used.

It was in the final lesson that the real fun began. In this
lesson the cadets actually had to load the heavy packs on to the
mules. The packs were made ready and as twelve mules were
used it would mean there would be twenty-four packs, that is
two to each mule. The loads were full-weight and when ready
were laid on the ground in two lines at sufficient intervals to
allow space for loading. When everything was ready the mules
were brought in and quietly led to their places between their
respective loads. Two cadets were detailed for each pack so
there were twenty-four cadets on either side of the line of
animals, making in all forty-eight cadets and twelve mules.
Much emphasis had been laid on the fact that quiet confidence
in knowing exactly what to do was the keynote of success in
the operation.

When satisfied that everything was ready and correct I
would give the order to load. All they had to do was to bend
down, lift up the packs quietly, slip up to the mule and hook the
loads on to the harness.

But it seldom happened as simply as that. Suddenly there
would be the most terrific commotion. Mules and cadets would
be flying in all directions in a most disconcerting manner. The
mules lashed out right and left and forty-eight cadets stampeded
for cover. They disappeared up trees, over walls, round corners,
in fact, anywhere to get away from the flying hooves of those
terrifying mules. It was an astonishing sight. In a few moments
it was over as quickly as it had begun, except that there was not
a mule or cadet to be seen anywhere and the only person left

BANGALORE AND FAREWELL TO INDIA 213

in the arena was myself. The twelve mules, after their little
joke, were back in their stables which were not far away, and
the cadets had gone to cover in time which would have made
a trained soldier under fire jealous!

The cause of these regular disasters was that somewhere in
the line a mule had flicked his ear or gently batted an eyelid
or he may even have given a playful little kick. But this was
quite enough for some damned nervous cadet to step back
hurriedly, miss the hook or drop his share of the load. This in
turn would cause the pack to swing down between the legs of
the mule and from that instant the hullabaloo started.

The extraordinary thing about that particular lesson was
that it became almost a certainty that things would happen; so
much so that I came to believe that the mules thought it was part
of the training. Possibly they may have looked forward to a
change from the routine and boredom of what was otherwise
rather a tame life for them.

My big surprise came, however, when during a school
entertainment one evening there was a discussion as to which
was the most popular class in the training programme. It was
decided to put it to the vote. There were roars of laughter and
approval when it was announced that the final lesson of the
pack mules easily topped the poll. Personally I doubted the
authenticity of this announcement.

The cadet school was undoubtedly a very lively and striving
community at this time. I would go so far as to say that of all the
academies where knowledge is taught, there is no finer spirit
to be found than among officer cadet students. The reason for
this is that for energy, keenness and enthusiasm they have no
equal. To these qualities are added the teaching of leadership,
initiation, discipline, courage and gentlemanly behaviour, surely
the best subjects for the education and training of young men.

The officers’ cadet school was the largest in India. Officers
were being trained in hundreds and although the training was
hard I did not think it compared with cadet schools of the past.
Certainly more subjects were taught but from the physical
angle it was not so hard and strenuous. The flow of cadets
through the school was tremendous as no fewer than a thousand

214 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

every four months were expected to pass out as officers, and
the work of the instructors was quite exhausting. At the peak
of a course I was actually scheduled to give as many as thirty-
two lectures in one week which is a considerable number and
requires a lot of preparation. However, everyone was terribly
keen and time passed at an amazing speed.

Bangalore at this time was a very different place from any-
thing it had been previously. Because of its climate it had been
a station in which there were always a considerable number of
English women. But never before in its long history had there
been quite so many. This had come about through the evacua-
tion of the women from Singapore just before its fall. They were
able to get out just in time and when they reached India were
allotted to various stations. Bangalore, because of its suitability
both as regards climate and accommodation, came in for a
larger contingent than most, and no less than two hundred
women were sent there. These were mostly the wives of Singa-
pore Civil Servants and civilians. The men had stayed behind
to fight with the voluntary services and, of course, became
prisoners of war when this great port was captured by the
Japanese. Most of the wives of the service personnel had been
evacuated to Australia much earlier but those remaining were
the women who had decided to stay on in Singapore until it
had become almost too late to get them away.

The tragedy of war now began to show itself from an
entirely new angle. ‘This was the separation of great numbers of
young married couples all over the world. The repercussions
from this general break-up of family life was far greater than
anyone could possibly anticipate. The married state suddenly
became very flimsy and started to crumble almost overnight.
We, as a race, did not come out of this severe test as well as
might be expected. It struck one very forcibly how little it takes
to undermine and destroy the contract of marriages. There is
no doubt about the truth of the old saying ‘When the cat’s
away, the mice will play’. What I like about this quotation is
that it is so fair because it does not specify the gender of either
the cats or the mice. The truth of it applied in both cases as was
seen in Bangalore at this time.

BANGALORE AND FAREWELL TO INDIA 215

Because of its suitable climate it attracted a large number of
men on leave and they were not slow to make the best of their
holiday by entertaining the lonely wives from Singapore. They,
in their turn, had to do their bit by looking after the war-weary
soldiers on leave. Their combined efforts were disastrous from
the moral point of view. Complications began to mount up in
alarming proportions. Few seemed to escape from the vortex
into which, through circumstance, they had been thrown. The
number of broken marriages which resulted from those associa-
tions was extremely high. India has always been renowned for
its intrigues and affairs but in all my experience of life abroad
I had never seen anything quite so devastating in so short a
time. Only the more experienced seemed to be able to keep
their heads, the others were like chaff in the wind. Bangalore
appeared to be worse than most places in India but then there
were no other stations with quite so many evacuated wives.
In the towns in England it would not be so easy to observe
what was going on around one but I am sure that elsewhere the
proportion of broken marriages was never so high.

I often wonder how these remarried romances fared after
the war and whether their new-found bliss was all they thought
it would be. The most unfortunate case, in which I knew the
people concerned, was that of a young married woman with
two delightful children who threw over an apparently worthy
husband for a very doubtful character who finally refused to
marry her. In her distraught frame of mind she committed
suicide by shooting herself. A most tragic affair.

On the lighter side was the case of a certain husband and
wife who were both having an affair unbeknown to each other.
They gave a dinner party one evening to which their respective
lovers were invited. These two were introduced to each other
for the first time. As a result of this meeting the affairs of the
husband and wife came to an abrupt end; their lovers had fallen
for one another and the married couple were left to console
each other as best they could!

Life in Bangalore during these months was very hectic.
We worked hard and played hard. Besides having the largest
cadet school in India it was also the headquarters of Southern

216 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

Command and it was here that most of the evacuated women
were able to help with their services. Then the American Air
Force decided to make Bangalore their aircraft repair establish-
ment, from which sprang up a wonderful aircraft factory. This
same factory, I believe, is the main centre of the Indian air-
craft industry today. It was a wise choice as the Madrasi
Indian is undoubtedly one of the best craftsmen in India, and
takes to aircraft engineering very easily. Bangalore having been
the home of the sappers and miners for so many years, gave the
industry a fine start with the thousands of sappers who had been
trained by that fine corps. Although it was said of their British
officers that they were either mad, married or Methodists, the
sappers certainly trained their men to a high standard of
proficiency.

With the invasion of the American Air Force, the United
Services Club became rather congested. The Americans
decided, therefore, to build their own club premises and it was
one of the most impressive pieces of quick work I ever saw
carried out. From the moment they decided to lay the first
brick until they held their opening dance it took only ten days.
Apparently the club house sections were flown in and assembled
on the site. Admittedly Indian labour was plentiful, but it was
a wonderful performance.

On the opening night I was amazed to see a fine building
with a well-appointed restaurant and a bright and colourful bar,
with swinging glass doors, artistically decorated. The club
was packed full of the youth and beauty of Bangalore. Where
they all came from was a mystery. The whole place was fairly
bubbling over with gaiety and excitement. I was very much
impressed and did not stint my praise for this superb effort.
It seemed to create an air of confidence and optimism as to the
final outcome of the war which was indeed a tonic to people
like myself who had seen so much of the other side of the
struggle.

Bangalore at this time was a full and busy station. The
headquarters of Southern Command, which extended from
Bombay to Madras and right down to Ceylon, occupied a large
slice of the cantonment. The Americans had established a large

BANGALORE AND FAREWELL TO INDIA 217

aircraft factory which quickly became their most important
repair base while the cadet school was the largest in India, and
with its barracks and training grounds covered another large
area.

Because of its wonderful climate Bangalore had rapidly
developed into one of the largest leave centres, both for the
sick and the wounded from the Burma campaign which was
then at its height. It was also the headquarters depot of the
sappers and miners who were responsible for the invention of
that world-famous weapon the Bangalore Torpedo which was
playing such a momentous part on the Burma front. Altogether
Bangalore had reached an importance far greater than it had
ever previously experienced in its long history.

Those of us who were permanently stationed there decided
to get the local hunt going as the hounds were still in kennels
and being maintained by the hunt funds which were in the
possession of the sappers and miners depot mess. Sergeant
Mounter, who was in charge of the hounds and an exceptionally
keen huntsman, was only too ready to get things going. Colonel
Vigors of the Mysore Lancers undertook the key position of
field master and I took over the job of whip. The number of
horses available in the station was quite considerable and we
soon had some surprisingly good fields. The news spread and
keen followers of hounds appeared from all over India and
Burma and leave to Bangalore became very popular.

One or two hunts stand out in my memory because of
unusual happenings in the day’s sport. There was the morning
when we were drawing a rather large cover and the hounds
put up a small herd of buck on the blind side. Before we could
get control they had gone after the deer at a great pace leaving
the hunt staff and field far behind. The deer were, of course,
much too fast for hounds and disappeared into the blue. It
took us about three days to recover all the hounds and some
returned in a very sorry condition.

Then there was the day when we were riding across some
light scrub country with very little cover and, to our amazement
and consternation, the hounds disturbed a fully-grown panther.
It just turned and snarled at them and then was off with a

218 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

bound. The older hounds stood transfixed but one or two of the
younger ones made an attempt to follow. We had no difficulty
in whipping them off. Although some of the less experienced of
the field, particularly some of our American friends, looked a
bit startled, we reassured them that we would not see the
panther again.

There was no doubt in my mind that the Bangalore hunt
was a real tonic to the war weary on leave.

About this time I organized riding breakfast parties on
Sunday mornings. These were an immediate success and I feel
sure they will not be easily forgotten by those who came to them.
The idea was to pick some suitable shady palm grove about six
or eight miles away out in the country around Bangalore and
which could only be reached on horseback. ‘This was to prevent
gate crashing by non-riders in motor-cars. The time for serving
breakfast had to be early because the sun later became too
hot for the horses. The riders had to get there in their own time
and with whom they liked. I arranged for the food and servants
to have the breakfast all ready when the riders arrived. It was
surprising how the youth and beauty of the station managed
to obtain horses to get them there. Our numbers ranged from
never less than twelve to as many as twenty-two and it was
more often nearer the twenty than the twelve mark. There were
always as many young women as men and what grand fun it
was. Those breakfasts became very popular and were the talk
of the station and even farther afield.

Food was not at all short in Bangalore and we had plenty.
There was fried bacon, ham, eggs, tomatoes, toast, honey,
jams, marmalade and luscious fruits such as fresh mangoes,
peaches, bananas and oranges, while to drink we had fresh
coconuts with their milk, just waiting to be cracked and drunk
or hot coffee and tea for the more conventional! The whole
meal was laid out on the ground with white tablecloths,
knives, forks, china cups and saucers and half a dozen Indian
servants to serve us. It gave me a great kick when we invited
American guests, both men and women, to see their faces and
listen to their surprised exclamations.

As one amusingly said one morning when the party was a

BANGALORE AND FAREWELL TO INDIA 219

really good show, ‘I just don’t believe you guys are British—
especially that joker at the end of the table!’ and pointed at me.
I certainly think we surprised them.

After breakfast we would have some jumping, trick riding,
or musical chairs on horseback, which is wonderful fun, and
then, when it was over, we made our way back in our own time.

It was on one of these mornings, when I was riding out
alone to the rendezvous, that I saw one of the strangest sights
imaginable. I had started early as I wanted to see that every-
thing was in order because the party was larger than usual.
I was passing on the outskirts of a small village when I heard
the mooing of a cow which sounded rather distressed. I turned
my horse and continued over to the animal and there in the
early morning light—the dawn had just broken—I saw a cow
in milk transfixed to the ground by the efforts of a full-sized
cobra which had wound its body around the two hind legs of
the cow making it completely immobile and, with one of the
udders in its mouth, was suckling the cow of its milk. My horse
suddenly became aware of the snake and immediately went
into the most awful fit of trembling and I could feel its knees
sagging beneath me. If ever a horse was near fainting this was
the time. I always carried a stock whip with lash when riding.
As soon as I recovered from my astonishment I gave a crack of
the whip which went off like a pistol shot. It startled the snake
which unwound itself in a second and was away in a flash. The
cow ran off towards the village but, strangely enough, I had a
feeling that it was not the first time this kind of thing had
happened to her. I was quite certain by the size of the cobra
that it was not its first milk feed.

It took me some time to pacify my horse and I had a rough
ride for the remainder of the morning as it shied at everything
and anything which even resembled a snake, such as twigs,
branches or cracks in the hard ground.

The story certainly enlivened the breakfast party that
morning, at which there were some Americans. Everyone
thought it a tall story which I put on especially for visitors
but I can vouch for the truth of it.

Towards the latter part of 1944 the news from the Burma

220 INDIAN CAVALRYMAN

front began to brighten up and things improved tremendously.
It was generally accepted that we had the Japs on the run.
The changeover from mechanization to mules and animal
transport, with which I had been so involved, had met with
great success. The cadet school was continually being praised
for the excellent young officers it was turning out who were
playing such a big part in the success of the Chindits in Burma.

I was particularly gratified when General Sir Claude
Auchinleck, the commander in chief of India, visited the cadet
school and personally thanked me for my special work in
connexion with the teaching of animal transport, and we dis-
cussed the important part it was playing in Burma.

About this time the influx of Indian students as cadets
considerably increased and there was little doubt that the
Indian Army was rapidly becoming an army for Indians. I,
who had seen so many changes over the years, was now wit-
nessing the greatest change of all: the end of the finest volunteer
Army within the British Empire. However, I have the satisfac-
tion of knowing that many of the officers who are commanding
the Indian Cavalry regiments of today passed through my
hands.

A few weeks later a special Indian Army order was issued
to the effect that officers and men who had served overseas for
a continuous period of five years were to be repatriated to
England. I came under this instruction as I had been abroad
practically the whole of the war. I received orders to proceed
to Bombay and thence to sail for England. This was to be my
‘Farewell to India’. I felt I had served her well.

The following day I took my last parade in the riding
school. It was with a certain amount of trepidation and
emotion that I gave that final order which signifies the end of
a parade with horses and is universally understood by cavalry-
men throughout the armies of the world:

‘Make much of your horses!’

© Captain Freddie Guest 1959